Trust Me When We Fall
by theshymuffin
Summary: Adrien had always wanted to share his secret identity with someone. To show them the other part of him. He just always thought it would be Ladybug. (Act One and Two Complete).
1. Act One: I

The sun had yet to peak over the sleepy homes of Paris. Streetlights shone, muffled by fog. Everything was still, the morning fresh.

I crossed rooftops, ghosted past windows. I crouched below a chimney stack and took advantage of the cover. I became a shadow.

Mist settled on my second pair of ears and threatened to ravage my hair. The cold wrapped around me, sank through my suit, and numbed my nose and hands. I stayed alert, muscles taut, eyes searching the gray sky.

You may wonder why I sit in this miserable weather, early on a Saturday, of all days. Shouldn't I be in bed, sleeping in? The very thought stirred a desire for warmth, and reminded me how tired I was. A cat nap would feel real nice right now. But this was a chance to patrol with Ladybug without cutting into class time. I was here for the men, women, and children of Paris. For their safety. . . Though the promise of seeing Ladybug was far from unpleasant.

I cast another studying look into the fog. My tail flicked with impatience. _Where is she?_ My ears perked at the sound of wire on metal, a soft whirring sound. A sound as familiar as my own name.

I turned and saw something bright. A flash of red, of spots. She landed by my side and rose to her full height to take in the cityscape. Not that she could see far.

I risked a glance up at her, only for my heart to leap into my throat. Her hair hung damp, blue in the soft first light of day. Her cheeks were rosy under the mask, eyes bright against the dull sky.

She looked over at me, her mouth quirked in a near smile, but I could tell she was tired too. "Hey."

I broke into a grin, the world much warmer and cheerier now that she was at my side. The sky didn't seem so gray, the rain as cold. "Morning, M'lady."

"Sorry you had to wait on me," she said. "I was up late doing homework and slept through my first alarm."

I got to my feet and stepped from my shadow. "No need to apologize."

In fact, I was proud to think of her laboring over her school work. How she had to juggle her regular life and this life. It couldn't be easy. I knew it wasn't. Still here she was. Savior of Paris.

The air was electric around me, being so close to her. "You look pawsitively lovely this morning."

Her pigtails swayed as she shook her head. "Are you ever going to stop with the cat puns?"

"Haven't the _foggiest_ , M'lady."

Ladybug gave me a dry look. "It's too early in the morning for this."

"Are you kitten? Anytime is pun time-"

Her yoyo shot out and she swung from the roof, the space beside me now hollow, and empty.

"Hey, I wasn't finished!" My feet moved, my hand reached back for my baton. I leapt off the building, pole extending to meet the pavement below, and followed her.

The streets grew steadily busier as people rose to face the day. We paused on the ledge of _Pont de Invalides_ bridge. Cars and taxis went by, wind shield wipers running at full speed.

From here I could see the blue green glass roof of the _Grand Palais,_ with Paris' flag whipping in the stormy wind. My nose tickled when I remembered how we faced down Mr. Pigeon and his battalion of birds inside. It took days before my allergies recovered.

The downpour grew harder, beat against my back. I shivered. "M'lady?"

She gave me an empathetic look. Her bangs clung around her eyes, and rain gathered in large drops before it rolled down her suit. "I know, Chat. How about we circle back to the Eiffel and call it quits?"

As she spoke, a guy wearing a raincoat came walking by, head down, huddled against the wind. Every car that whipped past sent a cold rush of air and a splash of water on his shoes. Poor guy. Didn't even have an umbrella.

He glanced up and froze when he saw us. "Ladybug? Chat Noir?"

Ladybug gave him a wave and a smile. "Hi!"

His face lit up with a great big smile. "You two are amazing! Can I have a picture with you?"

I jumped down and reached to shake his hand. "Of course. What's your name?"

"Oh, it's uh, Aaron." He searched his pockets for his phone. "Here we go."

Ladybug came to my side, hands clasped. "Nasty weather, isn't it?"

"Forget your umbrella?" I asked.

"Yeah," Aaron said, and seemed a bit embarrassed. He fumbled with his phone and looked at us uncertainly.

I stepped in and gave him a reassuring smile. "How about we do one serious, one goofy?"

"Can you be serious that long?" Ladybug said, and tried to disguise a laugh.

I put a hand over my heart, feigning hurt. "Meowch!"

The guy laughed at us, seemed more at ease. We leaned in together for the camera. When we were done, he scrolled through them, a sparkle in his eyes. "Wow. Thanks so much. You two really are awesome."

Ladybug shifted, uncomfortable with the praise. "Well, let me do one more thing for you." She took her yoyo in hand, and tossed it in the air. _"Lucky Charm!"_

Aaron's mouth dropped in awe as a red and black spotted umbrella appeared, then fell into Ladybug's hands. She held it out to him, her face warm with a smile.

"Whoa." He looked at it in disbelief. "T-thank you."

"Of course," she said, and tossed me a look of amusement. "Ready, Chat?"

I gave the civilian a wink and a salute. "See you around, Aaron."

With that, we took off, headed for the Eiffel tower like we'd planned. Again, we perched on a ledge looking out on the city. This time we had shelter from the rain, though the wind was fierce up here and pricked my skin like ice.

"I think you made Aaron's day," I said.

 _And mine._ But I didn't tell her that. She could tell I was glad to see her, to be with her, right?

She shrugged. "He wanted a picture with both of us. Not just me."

I tilted my head. Maybe she really didn't realize how amazing she was. "I mean about the umbrella. That was really nice of you."

Her miraculous beeped. "Looks like it's time for me to bug out," she said.

I cast a look of disappointment at the ground, cat ears drooped. "Right."

Sirens broke through the calm. Across the river Siene, a police patrol car flew down the avenue at an urgent pace. The sound echoed from another that followed close behind.

"That doesn't look good," Ladybug said. She let out a sound of frustration. "I forgot to bring food for my kwami."

"She wouldn't eat Camembert by any chance?" I asked.

"No. Chocolate chip cookies." She looked down in uncertainty, before that familiar spark of determination caught in her eyes. "Come on. Let's go."

"But what about-"

"I'll figure something out."

Ladybug vaulted off the ledge and fell a couple hundred feet before she snagged her yoyo on a lower girder of the tower. We crossed the river and went after the pair of police cars. It wasn't difficult to find their trail. The flow of traffic stalled to allow them through. Soon enough the hotel, Le Grand Paris, came into view. The police parked outside the front door and emerged from their vehicles. The lights flashed and reflected off the fog.

Ladybug approached one of the officers, one with a familiar face. "What's going on?"

Lieutenant Raincomprix saluted both of us. "Armed robbery. We got a tip saying they're targeting Jagged Stone."

And we were off. Forget the lift. Ladybug swung her yoyo and caught it on the metal pipes along the roof. I extended my pole and zipped past the first floor, second, third. . . We slipped through a window, out of the rain, into the hushed crimson corridor. It smelled dusty and closed in after being in the fresh morning air for so long.

I stilled, muscles coiled, as I listened. My ears twitched at the slightest of sounds. People shifted in their rooms, water ran through pipes, and at the end of the hall the lift was running. That was probably the police on their way up.

Ladybug's miraculous beeped again. I glanced over and saw she only had three spots left.

"You need to go," I said.

She continued down the hall, her steps measured, yoyo at the ready. "I won't let you go in there alone."

"It's not like it's an akuma." I tried to charm her with a smile. "I can handle this. The police will be here in a minute."

We'd reached the double doors of Jagged Stone's room, and it didn't seem I was doing much to sway her.

She held up a hand for me to stop. "Can you hear anything?"

I leaned in to listen. Nothing. Even with my enhanced senses. I looked up at her and shook my head. She took a deep breath, and reached for the doorknob. We slid into the room, side by side.

Ladybug gasped, then pointed to a man laying on the floor. Wild, purple hair tumbled over his face. His hands were covered in lace and bling. That was all I needed to see to tell it was Jagged Stone. And he wasn't moving.

She circled the room and knelt beside him. She leaned in, probably to listen for his breathing. Her shoulders loosened with a silent sigh of relief.

The floor creaked from the next room. I dropped to a crouch and moved along the wall and positioned myself by the doorway. I spared M'lady a glance and she nodded to me. I rose to my full height and pressed into the wall. I could just _feel_ the intruder coming closer, about to walk through that door. My muscles tensed, ready to pounce.

I chirp split through the room – Ladybug's miraculous.

The intruder paused, just beyond the doorway. "Who's there?"

I didn't dare move. My heart pounded in my chest.

Finally, the man stepped into the room. I hefted my batons, aiming to knock him to the ground. My momentum slowed when I saw the gun in his hand.

"Chat, watch out!"

I dodged, just as it went off. _Oh, he did not._ I was unscathed, but angry now. Was this guy serious? He couldn't take Chat Noir and Ladybug.

"I'm down to my last spot!"

" _Cataclysm!"_ I leapt for the gun and my claws sank into the barrel. The blackness soaked through the metal, corrupted it, turned it to dust.

The burglar stilled, like he'd been stunned. I gave him one of Chat Noir's sliest smiles. _Too easy._

"Go on," I said. "I got this, Bugaboo."

Ladybug moved toward the door. "Are you sure?"

I shouldn't have taken my eyes off him, shouldn't have looked back at her. I heard the movement before I spun and saw the man swing his bag of loot at me. It landed above my left eye, the weight crashed against my skull. My vision swam, the red room bleeding together.

"Stand down!"

 _Good. The police are here. They'll teach this punk a lesson._

The burglar dropped his bag of loot and its contents spilled onto the carpet. My eyes zeroed in on a small bust of Jagged himself, gold and amethyst studded.

I swayed as the realization of what happened finally hit me. Hard.

An arm wrapped around my waist, and there was Ladybug steadying me. "Chat, are you alright?"

My feet fumbled over each other as she led me from the room into the hallway. "You're gonna change back." The single spot on her earring came into focus. "You have to get out of here."

A door closed behind us and she sat me down on something soft. "Not until you tell me you're alright."

I leaned back against velvet pillows and my eyes slid shut. All I wanted was to sleep. . .

 _BEEP._

I snapped to fully awake and a pillow smashed against my face.

"Don't look!"

"I won't," I said, voice muffled.

"What should we do?" a soft, airy voice asked.

 _That_ must be her kwami. I felt an urge to see, to finally know who the girl behind the mask was. But I stayed still. I wouldn't do that to her. I couldn't.

"I don't know, Tiki."

"We can't just leave him here. He's hurt."

"What if I call an ambulance?" Ladybug asked.

"No," I said, pillow still smushed to my face. "That's not necessary, M'lady."

". . . Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Besides. My head was beginning to clear up. A little.

My skull pounded in the silence that followed. That's when I noticed how quiet the room had become. I lifted a hand to shift the pillow. No one stopped me. I looked around, part of me hoping she'd be there.

But the room was empty.

I let out a sigh, then hissed at the pain that shot through me. I needed to get out of here. I slunk across the room to the window. Somehow I got it open, and then I was out in the fresh air. I climbed up, until I found myself crouched on the roof of Le Grand Paris.

My eye sight blurred in and out as I watched the passersby walk the street like ants. I felt a surge of satisfaction as the police left the building, burglar in tow.

A girl came out a side door of the hotel. Pigtails, blue eyes and pink jeans. She seemed familiar, but I couldn't place her. A part of me felt desperately that I should know who she was, but I didn't. It nagged at me, and I felt drawn to her, so I followed.

I tried to keep a fair distance, to stay hidden. Each time I leapt to a new roof, I came this close to slipping or falling. The stone was still slick from the rain. More than that, my balance was severely off. I clawed my way over a ledge and caught another glimpse of the girl.

 _Marinette._

That was her name. She sat behind me in class. She was creative enough to win that contest with the derby hats. Was brave enough to stand up to Chloe. Sure, she could be shy and awkward, but she was my friend.

My ring shot me a warning. I was running out of time. And I knew. I did need help.

 _How messed up does my head have to be for me to forget Marinette?_

She turned onto a quieter street and paused in front of a bakery. The Boulangerie Pâtisserie. It was her parent's bakery.

 _I trust Marinette, right?_ Did I trust her with _this,_ though?

I stopped on the fire escape of the building across the street. I sunk to my knees, shoulders hunched, and tried to think through the haze in my mind. I'd always wanted to share my identity with someone, to show them the other part of me. I just always thought it would be Ladybug.

I stared up at the rooftop of the bakery where her room was. My ring chirped again. One minute left. I moved up the fire escape, until I was nearly level. My steps faltered, and I gathered myself, and used the very last of my strength to jump over the street. The landing was clumsy. I knocked over a plant on her balcony and the pot hit the floor with a crash.

The trap door opened and a head popped up.

I laid a shaky hand on the railing to try and steady myself. "Hey, Marinette."

Her mouth dropped open. "Chat Noir?"

I took a step toward her, desperate to come up with an explanation, but I stumbled and fell.

I heard her footsteps as she rushed up the stairs and over to me. She bent over and her hands grasped at my arm, at my collar as she tried to lift me from the ground. "You're hurt." She finally got me turned around so I lay on my back. "What happened to you?"

I put a hand on her shoulder. She frozen and met my gaze with confusion. "Marinette, I'm about to change back-"

"WHAT?"

My ears rang. I shook my head, cat ears flicking. "Please, I need you to listen to me."

She gently sank to her knees and knelt over me. "I'm listening."

"I need your help. Can I trust you with this?" I asked, praying she'd say yes. There was no turning back now.

"Are you sure?" she asked, and looked very afraid for some reason.

I didn't get to answer. My ring chirped and the last pad of the paw print disappeared. My transformation wore off, came away in particles of black, and left my regular clothes behind.

Marinette stumbled back and nearly toppled another plant. "A-adrie. . . _Adrien?"_

I gave her a weak smile. "Looks like the cat's out of the bag."

Her hands flew over her mouth and she sat there, motionless.

Plagg drifted in the space between us and gave me a pitying look. "Well that was slick." His eyes roamed to Marinette. "Do you happen to have some Camembert lying around?"

"I-I. . ."

I let out a groan. "Plagg, shut up."

Marinette's expression slowly morphed from shock to worry. She inched forward, and her hand hesitated above my left eye, where the sharp pain pulsed. "This looks really bad."

"Thanks."

"Can you stand?" she asked.

I scoffed. "Of course." I stood up. My vision blotted for a second and I swayed on my feet.

Marinette planted her feet, hands shooting against my chest to keep me from tipping over. "Steady!"

I let her bare the burden of my weight, and a question slipped through my mind, right out my mouth. "How are you so strong?"

She only grunted in reply, as she guided me to the trap door. Somehow she got me down the stairs, and suddenly there was pink _everywhere._ I buried my face in her shoulder and breathed deeply to try and stop the spinning in my head.

"Adrien, come on," she said.

 _Too tired to move_ , I thought, though I meant to tell her. And a thought I'd meant to keep to myself slipped right out. "You smell really nice."

She turned rigid, her shoulders stiff. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

That cleared my head up real fast. "Marinette, listen," I said, desperation leaking through my voice. "I don't want my Father to know-"

"Adrien, hush." She balanced me against her shoulder and slipped an arm around my waist. Somehow she managed to get the trap door that led downstairs open with her foot. "Listen, no one will know how you got hurt. We'll tell them you were in an accident. That someone mugged you. It'll be okay. Okay?"

I swallowed, the pain by my eye searing now. This was a fierceness to her I wasn't used to seeing. At least not aimed at me. Fighting her seemed too much effort, especially being in the state that I was. I finally gave in. "Okay."

She led me through the house and out the back way into an alley. I think it was an alley. I heard cars and the soft patter of rain.

"What about Plagg?" I asked. "No one can see him, Marinette."

"Do you have any ideas?" she said, and I realized she wasn't speaking to me.

"You got cheese here?" Plagg asked.

"You want to stay _here?"_ she squeaked.

"He won't be more trouble than you can handle," I said, pleading.

She might have said something back, but it was getting harder to focus and for a second I forgot who she was. It scared me.

 _This is Marinette. I can't forget Marinette._

"You won't forget me, silly," she said, sounding panicked.

It was difficult to say what I said and what I thought. Everything swirled together, and I found myself muttering things that didn't make sense.

Another door opened and this time, a bell rang. The sound rattled in my head, making me feel nauseous. I smelled fresh bread and cinnamon.

"Mama! Papa!"

"Marinette!"

I felt rather than saw people crowding around me.

"Please, Papa. Help him."

In my dazed state, I found Marinette's hand and held onto it, and it made me feel safe, like I would be okay.

Sirens. Rain. A white light. Then? Then there was nothing.

* * *

I woke up surrounded by beige, the smell of disinfectant, and a hammering in my head. A stranger moved at my side. On reflex, my hand tightened, and grabbed nothing but a fistful of blanket. I startled up, only to be pushed back into a mound of pillows.

"Slow down there, champ," the man said. "Everything's fine. You're safe now." He flipped through the papers in his clipboard. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," I started, frustration in my voice. The sheets tangled around my feet when I tried to move.

"Hey, calm down. You just need to rest. Your dad's on his way."

That stopped me. I eased back, the fight drained out of me. A cold type of sleepy took over. "He is?"

The door opened and someone tall took up the space. His stern gaze swept the room, then shattered when it landed on me.

"Hello, Father," I said, my voice tight, not wanting to let how glad I was to see him slip out.

The nurse glanced between us, then took a step back. "I'll give you both a minute to talk. But he really does need to rest."

"Thank you," Father said in earnest.

The nurse left, and shut the door behind him. I was left with sterile walls pressing in on me, the silence worse than the throbbing in my head. I stared down at the pale blue blanket draped over my feet, and willed myself not to look at Father.

"I can't believe you ditched your bodyguard _again,"_ he said, all sympathy vanished from his voice. "That's why I pay for one. So incidents like this won't happen."

"I'm sorry, Father."

He gave me an icy look. "Maybe this will teach you not to go running off and wander the streets like some vagabond."

"Yes, Father."

I cast a dull look at the tiled floor. Through all the coldness, the harshness, I still wanted to believe my Father loved me. . . _And maybe he does. Why would he be here if he didn't?_ Or maybe I was only grasping at straws.

Things hadn't been like this when Mom was still here. Father had still been, well, Father. But Mom had a way of making us feel like a family, like we loved each other. She had a way of thawing the ice.

"I'm. . . really tired."

Father straightened his suit jacket. "Of course. Get some rest, son."

The door closed. I let out a sigh, and allowed my body to relax, to sink deeper into the bed. Then I remembered what I did. I tensed and pain spiked from the movement.

 _I told Marinette I'm Chat Noir._ And I didn't just tell her. I _showed_ her.

I spotted my clothes folded on the table beside the bed. Laying beside them, was my phone. I fought through the pain and sat up, then reached over for it. I scrolled through my contacts until I found her. Then I stilled.

I knew I didn't regret telling her. Of course I could trust her with this. She'd be totally awesome about it. Someone finally knew. I could finally talk to someone about being half of Paris' super hero duo.

I sent her a text.

 _How's Plagg?_

A moment later she replied:

 _He says he feels full._

 _That's a first._ _Thanks for watching him. Hope he behaves himself. He can be a handful sometimes._

I contemplated sending her a crap ton of cat gifs. But maybe that would be too much.

I smiled, and set my phone on the bedside table. I did as the nurse asked, and settled under my covers and let the sleepiness take over, drifting to a heavy sleep.


	2. Act One: II

I paused on the school steps and grasped the handles of my book bag tighter. I'd made up my mind not to come, had told Mama and Papa I didn't feel well. The thought of seeing Adrien made my stomach turn. These weren't your average, run of the mill butterflies. I was terrified.

" _This isn't the end of the world, Marinette,"_ Tiki had said to me. _"_ _Adrien is still Adrien. . . He's just Chat Noir too."_

I hugged my bag protectively against me, knowing two little kwamis were nestled inside. In _separate_ pockets. Though getting them there hadn't been easy. In fact, the whole weekend I'd had to keep Plagg from finding out he wasn't the only magical being in my house.

I walked into the school grounds and paused at the edge of the court where Kim and Alix were fooling around with a ball. I tried to dodge out of their way and murmured a greeting.

"Hey, Marinette," Kim said, and shielded the ball from Alix with his body. While his attention was on me, she lunged for the ball and managed to get away with it. She made a shot that danced on the rim and dropped in.

"Come on, Alix. I was distracted," Kim protested.

She probably said something witty back at him, but I hurried past. My eyes darted around the gym, searching for a certain head of blond hair with little luck. _Maybe he's not here yet._ So I relaxed. A little.

Alya and Nino sat on the stairs that led to the second floor, their shoulders together, both scrolling on their phones. Alya must have a sixth sense, psychic powers, or Marinette radar, because she looked up while I was still several yards away. She nudged Nino with her arm, and he glanced around, startled. He finally spotted me and gave a little wave.

I waved back, and managed to giggle at the two of them. "Hey, you guys."

"Don't think I didn't notice, because I did," Alya said, and gave me a look that pierced my very soul.

My brain sifted through all the things Alya could have found out. _What if she knows I'm Ladybug? What if she knows I'm Ladybug and Adrien is Chat Noir? What if she can tell I didn't wash my hair this morning?_

A panicked laugh came out. "Noticed what?"

"You're looking for Adrien."

Hearing his name sent a jolt through me, but then I let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, right."

Nino rested his arm on his knee, his eyes downcast. "I still can't believe what happened to him."

"Yeah. . ." I looked down at my shoes. "I feel so bad for him."

"Me too," Nino said, and looked like he might feel worse than Alya and I put together.

Although Alya was so engrossed by her phone, I'm not sure she was even listening.

"What's so interesting?" I asked.

She glanced up. "Have you seen the latest scoop on Ladybug and Chat Noir?"

"What is it?" I asked, a part of me grateful for the change of subject. Although really, we were still talking about the same person.

"This guy posted a selfie he took with them on le Pont des Invalides on Saturday."

 _Oh yeah. That was a thing that happened._ It had been such a brief moment, and subsequent events caused me to forget about it until now.

I leaned in to see Alya's phone and couldn't help the smile that spread over my face. The picture was foggy and crisp from the rain. The guy – I think he'd said his name was Aaron – was wearing the biggest smile. My bangs clung to my forehead and I was kinda making a weird face.

 _Oh well. It's not like the entire internet is going to see it. . ._ I sighed.

Beside me, leaning in close, was Chat Noir. His electric eyes were scrunched, a lopsided grin on his face. His wet hair pushed away from his face, hanging slightly to the right, instead of straight like it normally did. It. . . it looked a lot like him. Adrien, I mean.

 _How did I not see?_

"He posted this too," Alya said, and swiped left. "Remember how it was crazy raining that morning? Ladybug gave him an umbrella, made with her super powers. Isn't that wicked cool?"

"LB's my hero," Nino said, his eyes beaming.

I ducked my chin and my cheeks warmed at their praise. It meant a lot when it came from my friends like that.

A sudden hush fell over the room. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I knew without looking what had caused the lull. Slowly, steeling myself, I looked over my shoulder.

He walked into the courtyard, looking shy and a little lost. Did _everyone_ have to stare at him like that?

"Adri-honey!" Chloe crooned. She swooped in on him like a bird of prey, and latched onto his arm. I heard her say something along the lines of "you're sooo brave, Adrien" and "I almost fainted when daddy told me!"

Adrien mumbled a response before he shrugged out of her grasp. He looked a little annoyed, and more than a little embarrassed.

Slowly, the noise level returned to normal. Everyone seemed to wave or call out to Adrien as he walked by. And. . . he was headed straight toward us.

I cleared my throat. "I uh. . . need something from my locker. I'll see you both in class."

"But what about Adrien?" Alya called.

But I was already walking, and I didn't stop until I reached the girl's locker room. Once I was alone, I let out a sigh of relief. I busied myself by going over to the water fountain to get something to drink. My mouth felt so dry.

I mean, keeping it together around Adrien was normally a challenge, but now? Knowing what I do? What do I do? What do I _say?_

"Hey, Marinette."

"AAAdrien!" My arms made some wild movements and my head went spinning, searching for something to say to him. "How you are feeling? I-I mean are you better feeling?"

I glanced above his left eye, where the terrible bruise had been Saturday morning. Now it was disguised with makeup. My gaze slipped lower, and I realized I'd been avoiding eye contact. The green in his eyes caught me off guard, and I actually flinched.

 _Uh, duh, Marinette. His eyes have always been that color._

"Yeah," he said, amusement obvious in his voice. "I'm feeling much better. Thanks to you," he added with a wink.

I forced myself to look away. It was bad enough the whole school was gaping at him. He didn't need me to stare too.

"I uh, have Plagg with me," I said, my voice hushed.

We both looked around the room, to make sure we were alone. I pulled at the zipper on my bag and Plagg shot out.

"Finally. I thought your perfume was going to smother me," he said.

I reached out to stroke his head. "That's nothing compared to Camembert."

"Plagg, mind your manners," Adrien said, and gave him a stern look.

"You know what's good manners? Feeding your friends," Plagg shot back. "But do you feed me? No."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't feed him?"

"Of course I do!"

Plagg moaned. "Oh sure. Believe the guy with the secret identity."

"Plagg-"

"He has a point," I said, though I was only teasing.

"It's not so secret anymore," Adrien said under his breath.

I bit my lip, and for the first time I wondered if he regretted telling me. _What if he wished he hadn't? What if he wished it was someone besides me?_

"We should get to class," he said. "C'mon, Plagg. You better get out of sight."

* * *

As we came to the door of our classroom, Chloe came out of nowhere, and knocked right into me, sending me flailing.

"Adrien!" Chloe said, and latched onto his arm. "Would you like to eat lunch with me? Daddy's supposed to take me out to this fabulous restaurant, Le Rayon de Miel, and I'd absolutely die if you didn't come along."

Adrien leaned away from her. "Well-"

I inwardly groaned. _I can't believe her sometimes._

She fluttered her eyelashes and gave him a pout, as if that was supposed to be endearing. "Pleease?"

He looked at her for a long moment, then shrugged. "Yeah. Sure, Chlo."

"Ooo! Thanks, Adrikins," she said and slipped in right beside him as he took his seat.

"Uh, Chloe?" Adrien said, keeping his tone even. "That's. . . Nino's spot."

Nino and Alya came into the room, and stopped when they saw what was going on.

Chloe gave one of her grating laughs. "Don't be silly, he doesn't mind. Do you, Nino?" She turned to Adrien and leaned even closer. "I just couldn't bare being away from you for one second."

Nino and Alya exchanged a bewildered look, and he finally shrugged. "It's fine, Adrien."

Chloe giggled. "There, see?"

 _What Chloe wants, Chloe gets._

I watched, teeth clenched as Nino took a seat next to Ivan. "Hey, man."

"Uh, hey," Ivan said, then shot Chloe an odd look.

I thought Chloe was clingy before, but now? It got really old too. She kept distracting Adrien during class, and then I was distracted because I couldn't help but listen every time she leaned over to whisper something to him, or watch, fists clenched as she reached over to touch his arm.

Every time she did, I was reminded that the Adrien Agreste sitting in front of me, was not the Adrien Agreste I thought I knew. Chloe's brain would probably implode if she realized she was not so accidentally brushing hands with Chat Noir.

I glanced around the room and wondered what everyone else would think if they knew. Not that I would tell them, of course. I looked over my shoulder at Nino. Did he know? If anyone did, it would be him. Then again, I'd decided a long time ago never to tell Alya that I was a certain spotted superhero. And if he did, wouldn't Adrien have gone to him for help? Instead, he came to me.

 _Maybe. . . Maybe I'm the only one that knows._

The morning crawled by, and soon it was time for lunch break. As I went down the front steps of the school, I couldn't help but overhear Chloe speaking to her father on the phone.

"What do you mean you can't make it!?" Her face contorted. "But Daddy!"

Alya nudged me, and nodded at Chloe. "Seriously, what is with her today?"

I let out a frustrated groan. "Can't wait to go home and get some peace and quiet."

"You're telling me. She's been driving everyone crazy. Did you hear what she said to Max after math class?"

" – This is stupid. You never keep your promises!" Chloe said, livid now.

Her dad was the mayor, so I could imagine he was pretty busy. Maybe he had to break a promise here or there because of his work.

She hung up her cell in frustration and turned on Adrien, the nearest person she could vent to. "Can you believe him?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "We can still have lunch if you'd like. Nathalie will drive us."

This seemed to cool her off. "Well. . . Alright."

* * *

"Can you believe Chloe?" I asked Mama, as she poured me a glass of milk.

She gave me a concerned look. "Oh, Marinette. Her dad's going through a rough patch right now. Maybe you shouldn't judge her so harshly." Her face softened. "I think it was nice of Adrien to have lunch with her."

I stuffed a bit of croissant in my mouth, unwilling to let Mama know how angry I was. "That doesn't give her an excuse to act the way she does," I mumbled through the mouthful.

Mama patted my head, then returned the milk carton to its home in our blue fridge. "You can't control Chloe Burgeious' actions, only your own, Marinette."

* * *

I tugged at my bag. It must have been snagged on something, because I had to give it a good pull to get it out. I guess I left a zipper undone, because my sketchbook fell and papers spilled everywhere. For a minute I just stood there and stared at the mess I'd made.

Ms. Mendeleiev's science class was gonna be killer if I couldn't get my head out of the clouds. I gathered the loose papers into my arms and hugged them to me, even as two slipped out and floated back to the floor.

"Hey, Marinette."

I gasped and paper went flying like confetti. My sketchbook landed soundly on my toes. I jumped back, hopping on one foot, and bumped right into Adrien.

He caught me by the shoulders to steady me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright," I said, my voice going impossibly high.

"I didn't mean to startle you like that," he said, reaching for the jumble of papers. "I guess that makes twice today, huh?"

"I was uh, lost in thought, I guess."

Adrien tucked the papers into the front of my sketchbook and handed it to me. He glanced around the locker room. Mylène went by, headed to her next class, and some voices from the hall carried through, but we were relatively alone.

I swallowed, frozen with book in hand, waiting for him to say something. To say anything, really.

"I just wanted to say something about. . ." He laughed nervously. "Well, you know," he prompted.

"Oh. Right."

 _That._

The thing I'd been trying very, very hard not to think about. All day long.

I gave the boy a quizzical look and tilted my head for effect. "What is it?" I asked, feigning innocence.

He took a deep breath, like he was readying to say something important, until a scream tore through the quiet. He spun to face the door, eyes narrowed, muscles alert.

I couldn't help but stare. The posture, the height, the way he held his shoulders. . . _It's him. He really is Chat Noir._

"W-what was that?" I asked, though I had a sinking feeling I already knew.

"Stay here," he said.

Reflexively, I grabbed his hand to stop him. He looked back at me in surprise. "Adrien, you can't," I said, my voice hushed, even though no one else was here. Even though everyone outside was screaming because of the akuma. "You're still recovering, it's not safe. Let Ladybug handle this one."

He blinked. "I can't do that. What if she needs my help? I won't abandon her."

"But, Adrien-"

A strange, green gas drifted through the room and cut off our route to the door. Whatever it was, I was willing to bet it wouldn't be a good idea to inhale it.

My hand closed around Adrien's and I pulled him after me. Sometimes my feet think quicker than I do. I skidded past rows of lockers until we'd reached another door that led into the court. The gas was here too, a huge cloud that spiraled as it drew closer.

Instead of screaming, we were met with silence. And then the sound began. The gas shifted, and I saw Mylène on the concrete, rolling in an unnatural fit of laughter.

My heart lept into my throat. _What on Earth. . .?_ What kind of akuma would do this?

I took a step toward her, hand outstretched. "Mylène!"

"Come on," Adrien said, and nudged me toward the stairs. "She'll be fine once Ladybug takes out the akuma."

 _Right. Ladybug._

We ran into an empty classroom free of the green gas, and Adrien firmly shut the door behind us. Not that I was afraid, but that wasn't going to keep an akuma from getting to us.

I let out a frustrated sound. "Can you believe Chloe? I swear she's responsible for half the akumas in this city."

"Don't you think it's jumping to conclusions to say this is Chloe's fault?" Adrien asked.

I put a hand on my hip. "You know what she's been like all day. I can't even count how many nasty things she's said to everyone in the last few hours."

He gave me a thoughtful look. ". . . But isn't Hawkmoth responsible for _all_ of them?"

I frowned, because I don't think the two of us had ever had an argument before. I didn't like it.

"Even if it is because of something she did," he went on, "I don't think you should blame her for it. It's not her fault this is happening."

"You're just saying that because she's your friend," I said back.

He looked surprised, then guarded. "No, that's not it at all."

"What then?"

"I just. . . know what it's like. To have a dad that – that doesn't have time for you," he said, not meeting my eyes. "It's not easy."

All of a sudden I felt like an idiot. I remembered every time we had a parent day and his dad didn't show up. The derby hat contest when he'd sent his assistant and an iPad because he couldn't be there in person. In fact, I'd never actually met his dad face to face.

"Adrien. . ." I grasped his sleeve and pointed at the door, to a shadow outside. Their silhouette was the only thing visible through the frosted glass. They froze there, and I could barely make out the odd shape of their hair, or perhaps it was a hat, and a large, round nose.

Adrien slipped his hand in mine and pulled me under the teacher's desk with him. I crouched in the small space, my heart beating wildly against my ribs. It wasn't because of the akuma or the danger. It was being so close to him. It was being afraid because maybe I didn't really know this boy at all.

After a few long seconds, he inched back and peeked over the desktop. "I think it's gone now."

I let out a sigh of relief, ducked my head, and crawled out of the tight space. "Thank goodness."

"You don't have to worry. I would have protected you."

I let out a weak laugh, and had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. Now _this_ was the Chat Noir I knew. "Of course you would have."

Adrien looked down, and gave me a mischievous look. "Hey, Marinette?"

I placed a hand on the teacher's chair to steady myself as I got up, and nearly fell when it swiveled under me. "Y-yeah?"

He quickly took my hand, and helped me to my feet. "Wanna see something cool?"

"Okay." I pulled my hand away, before the warmth seeped into me, before it turned me into a stuttering puddle of Marinette. But I knew what came next. I'm not sure I was ready.

" _Plagg, claws out!"_ He threw a fist forward, and Plagg came out and flew into his ring. A green light engulfed his body. It shimmered and cracked like electricity flowing through him.

My mouth dropped as the suit spread over his clothes, ears popped up, tail grew out. And there he was. Chat Noir, grinning down at me. He rested his baton across his shoulders, wrists hanging from it.

His green eyes studied me. "Well?" he asked, a playfulness in his voice. "What do you think?"

His suit stretched across his frame, the broadness of his shoulders, the muscles in his arms. . . I turned away, heat spiking through me, making my face as red as Ladybug's mask.

"Y-yeah, that's cool." I threw a frantic look at the door. "You should probably go take care of that a-akuma."

"Right," he said, and gave me a cheeky grin. "Stay safe and out of the way, Mari."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," I assured him, as some of the strength came back to my knees.

He rushed off, and I opened my purse to let Tikki loose. She gave me a funny look, suppressing a giggle. "Are you going to be alright, Marinette? For a moment there I thought you might faint."

"Enough, Tikki. We have a job to do. They'll be no swooning over Adrien, or Chat, or either of them," I said, irritated with myself. _"Spots on!"_

* * *

It wasn't hard to find the akuma. He was in the library, fighting Chat Noir. The akuma was dressed like a clown, in garish yellow, with a pointed hat, and a ghostly face contrasted with black makeup. He pulled out a bucket and dumped a load of confetti on Chat Noir that stuck to him like glue.

I tossed my yoyo and it snaked around the akuma and pinned his arms to his sides. The bucket dropped to the floor with a thud.

Chat retreated to my side and tried to shake off the colorful confetti. It had stuck his baton to his fingers, his hand glued closed around it. "Looks like we have a sticky situation on our hands."

Without thinking, I giggled, then froze.

Chat gave me an odd look. "Is everything alright?"

"What?"

"You didn't inhale any of the laughing gas, did you?" he asked, and leaned in to examine me.

I shook my head, and tugged at my yoyo to pull it tighter around the akuma. "No, no. I'm fine."

"You will not stop _Le Pitre!"_

"Any idea where his akuma is?" I asked, hyper aware of how close Chat Noir was standing to me.

"Not yet, M'lady."

 _M'lady?_ And the way it rolled off his tongue.

I bit down. _Focus, Marinette. Chat's always been a flirt. He doesn't really mean it._

"You have not stopped me, the show will go on!" Le Pitre shouted.

"Wow." I rolled my eyes. "His jokes are even worse than yours."

Chat's ears drooped. "Harsh."

Le Pitre dropped something on the floor, and a haze of red smoke exploded. I pinched my nose, trying not to breathe it in, but it quickly dissipated. And Le Pitre had disappeared.

 _ARGH._

"Where'd he go?" I asked.

Chat whirled around. "I didn't see him leave. He must be hiding behind a bookshelf or something."

But a quick check of the library revealed that it was empty, save a teacher and a couple students, who'd been reduced to hysterics by Le Pitre's laughing gas. One of them was Nino, and I couldn't help notice the way Chat's eyes lingered on his friend, his mouth set tight, the worry in his eyes.

"Hey," I began awkwardly. "These people will be okay. We just have to find and take down Le Pitre. Right?"

His eyes flicked to me and he smiled. "Together?"

I swallowed hard. "Yeah, t-together."

"SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

We both turned toward the door, and I let out a tired sigh. I'd know that voice anywhere. Sure enough, it was Chloe. She stood on the opposite side of the terrace, clinging to the balcony. Le Pitre had her cornered, though it didn't look like he was trying to hurt her. Instead, he pulled out a bouquet of flowers, slightly wilted, but he held them out in earnest.

"Won't you give me a smile, My Petal?"

Chloe stopped screaming, and gave him a horrified look. "Daddy!?"

Chat and I exchanged looks of surprise. Le Pitre was Mayor Burgeious? My eyes landed on the colorful sash he wore.

"I think I know where the akuma is," I said. "Get Chloe to safety."

Chat and I ran across the walkway, and when Le Pitre saw us coming, he rolled what appeared to be a ball, a size someone would use to juggle with, toward us, and it exploded into a green cloud.

I snagged my yoyo on the railing near Chloe, and swung over. But Chat got caught in the gas.

"Ladybug!" Chloe cried.

I reached across the railing and hauled her over.

She screamed "What are you doing? Put me down!"

I lowered us onto the pavement below and set her on her feet. "Get out of here, Chloe. It's not safe."

She ran, and cast one last look over her shoulder at her dad before she disappeared through the school's entrance.

The cloud of laughing gas had cleared enough for me to see, that Chat was hanging onto one of the posts, laughing his tail off.

 _Great._ With my partner down, it was up to me to stop this akuma.

"They called me the joke of Paris," Le Pitre shouted. "We'll see who's laughing when I unleash my gas onto the entire city!"

Chat Noir doubled over. "That's hilarious," he said, and wiped at his eyes.

 _Okay. I'm done with this now._

" _Lucky Charm!"_ The object dropped into my hands, and I stared at it. An inflatable raft? "Seriously, Tikki?" I groaned. "What do you expect me to do with _this?"_

 _There isn't even water in here._

My eyes searched the gym, finally landing on the basketball Kim and Alix had been playing with earlier this morning. I started the raft inflating, and slid it across the concrete, underneath the edge of the balcony. I grabbed the ball and chucked it across the gym. It bounced on the wall behind Le Pitre, and came back to knock him right in the head. He swayed, then fell over the railing, into the raft and lay there, stunned. I was already running, and pulled the sash off his gaudy costume. As soon as I ripped through the fabric, the akuma came out, wings pushing for the sky.

"No more evil doing for you, _petit papillon."_ I swung my yoyo in a circle and it arced to catch the akuma, shell closing it inside. I released it, now clean and white and watched it flutter away.

" _Miraculous Ladybug!"_ I said, and tossed my yoyo high into the air. My powers restored Paris and the raft disappeared. Le Pitre's costume came away in dark particles to reveal none other than Mayor Burgeious behind the disguise.

Chat Noir shook his head, coming to his senses. His baton dropped from his limp hand from the terrace to the concrete below. The confetti had disappeared along with the effects of the laughing gas.

He leapt over the railing, landed on the concrete, and picked up his baton. He came to my side and smiled at me, a look of pride in his eyes. "And the curtain drops." He scooped my hand into his own, and lay a quick kiss on it.

Sure, he'd done it countless times before. But now? I felt shame for some reason. If only he knew. _If only he knew it was me._

"Where am I?" Mayor Burgeious cried.

"It's okay," I said, and offered a hand to help him off the ground.

"Where is my daughter?" he asked, sounding more anxious than usual. "Is she safe?"

"Yes. Everyone is safe now." My miraculous beeped. "Now, if you'll excuse me. Bug out!"

* * *

They canceled the rest of school that day. Guess I didn't have to worry about Ms. Mendeleiev's class after all.

It wasn't until the next day that I saw Adrien again. I was sitting on the steps in front of the school, doing some last minute reading for an assignment when he came over and sat next to me.

"Hey, Marinette."

I kept my eyes glued to my iPad. "Hi."

He leaned in closer, his voice low. "Are you alright? After yesterday, I mean."

I quickly nodded. "Oh yeah. I was fine." I risked a glance at him. "Looks like you and Ladybug saved the day."

"Yeah, well. . . She did most of the saving." He scuffed his shoe against the concrete, then looked out across the street, a faraway look in his eyes. "She's something, isn't she?"

"Uh, I guess," I said, then glanced at him again. With that look on his face. . . If I didn't know better I'd say he. . .

 _Oh no._

". . . do you, um. . .?"

Adrien looked at me from the corner of his eye, a blush warming his cheeks. "Like her?"

A nervous laugh came out. "Uh, I mean, it's not really any of my business, I just-"

"It's okay." His gaze dropped to his shoes before it came back up, freezing me in place, but burning into me all the same. "I want to tell someone. It's not like I can go around telling people I have a crush on Ladybug."

"A c-crush?"

The blush on his face deepened, reaching his ears. "It's dumb, I know. Like you said, she's _amazing_ , and I'm just. . . Me."

"No," I rushed, words tumbling out before I thought them through. "You're amazing too."

"Sure, but she's _Ladybug,"_ he said, like Ladybug meant _everything_. "I know she doesn't feel that way about me. I just can't get over her. Sad, right?"

Oh.

 _Oh._

Alya walked by, and waved at us, but didn't stop. And she _winked_ at me. Like she knew. If only she knew.

I clutched my reader to my chest as a funny feeling gathered in my stomach. "I'm sorry."

It was a lame response, I know. But what was I supposed to say? I was so mixed up it was a wonder I was able to speak at all.

He gave me a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "Thanks, by the way."

"F-for what?"

"You don't know how good it feels to finally have someone that knows about-" he cast a glance behind his shoulder, like he thought someone might be listening in, "-my _secret._ Now I have someone I can talk to."

"Oh."

 _'It's not like I can go around telling people I have a crush on Ladybug.'_

"I should, uh, get to class." I shoved my things into my bag. "I have some reading to finish."

"Okay." He smiled at me. "I'll see you in class."

I hurried up the steps, my heart pounding in my ears. Reading. Right. As if I could concentrate now. Still, I went to class. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw Alya.

"So. . ." Alya made a point of waiting until I'd settled in my seat to go on. "You and Adrien are getting pretty close since his accident."

"Alya, please."

"Don't try and pretend nothing's going on. I saw you just now, sitting together. And where were you two while Le Pitre was attacking the school? Cuddled up hiding somewhere, I bet."

As if.

"I'm really not in the mood."

"What's wrong?" she asked.

 _Should I tell her? I mean, I can't tell her_ everything _but if I tell her nothing, she'll know I'm keeping something from her._

"What is it, Marinette?"

". . . I just found out Adrien likes someone else."

"WHAT?"

I placed a finger to my lips and shushed her. Max and Rose were already at their desks, and I didn't want to attract their attention.

The air rushed from my lungs as Alya crushed me in a hug. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Can't breathe," I wheezed. She let me go and I took a deep breath before answering. "He just told me, when we were outside. I'm fine, Alya, really."

I watched as students began to stream through the door. My eyes glazed, my breathing caught, and I realized I wasn't _fine_.

Alya put her hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, girl. I understand. If you want to talk about it, I'm here for you."

I managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Alya. You're the best."

Alya lowered her voice even further. "Did he tell you who it is?" She cast suspicious glances around the class room.

"I don't think he'd want me to tell you," I said in a rush, and turned away from her. I hated lying to her, keeping things from her.

 _You'd rather tell her you're Ladybug? That Adrien is Chat Noir?_ No. My identity had to remain a secret for Alya's own protection. And Adrien's secret wasn't mine to tell. I was doing the right thing.

I slumped forward onto my desk, resting my head in my folded arms and let out a long sigh. I could live with the truth, that Adrien liked someone else. But Ladybug? How was little insignificant me supposed to live up to _that?_

"I'm an idiot," I mumbled. I was jealous of myself. How stupid was I, huh?

"Aw, come on, Marinette," Adrien said, from his seat in front of me. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

My head snapped up, my heart skipping a beat when I met those green eyes. I told myself it was just because he'd startled me. I hadn't noticed him come into the room or sit at his desk.

"Don't try and argue the issue, Agreste."

Alya gave me a gentle pat on the head. "Just remember you're _my_ idiot, and _I_ love you." She glanced at Adrien. "Anyone who messes with you will have _me_ to deal with."

He must have caught the threat in her voice because his eyes widened with a fragment of fear. His hand lifted to ruffle through the back of his hair and he gave a nervous smile.

I blinked. It was so _Chat Noir_ of him. I really was an idiot. How had I been so blind?

"Guess that makes two of us," he said to Alya, then gave me a glance that I felt became much too fervent. "No one messes with our Mari, right Alya?"

My cheeks warmed and I found that I couldn't look away, like I was trapped in the greenness of his eyes. I squirmed in my seat. I wanted to slap his perfect face. How dare he look at me like that? Call me _his_ Mari?

"Who's messing with our Mari?" Nino asked.

Bless Nino and his timing.

Adrien's attention shifted to him, releasing me from the prison of his gaze. "No one, if I have any say."

"Ditto." Nino shot me a pair of finger guns. "We got your back, Marinette."

"Thanks, guys," I said, my voice coming out so much shyer than I'd intended.

Alya gave me a look that was absolutely wicked, like she knew what this was doing to me and it gave her joy. I felt the sting of betrayal, and the return of that ache in my chest when my eyes wandered to Adrien.

I grabbed my pencil and opened my sketchbook, desperate for a distraction, besides the head of blond hair in front of me. That's when I knew. I was completely screwed.


	3. Act One: III

Breakfast is always a chore. Mainly because that's when Nathalie runs through my schedule for the next few days.

"Basketball practice is out," she said with a sigh. "And we'll have to wait and see about fencing on Friday. You have an appointment with your doctor that morning, so we'll see what he says."

I looked over the hollow room, the empty chairs, and the curtains drawn over the windows. The house was so quiet, simply shifting in my seat disturbed the silence.

I sighed. _What would life be like without schedules?_

"On Thursday evening, your Father is hosting a fashion show." She glanced up from her phone. "He would like you to attend. As long as you're feeling up to it, of course."

"Will. . . Father be there?"

The coldness in her eyes softened a bit. "Yes, Adrien. Your Father will be attending."

I set my attention back on my nearly finished breakfast. "I think I can handle it."

"Excellent."

I glanced up to make sure Nathalie wasn't looking, then slipped the Camembert from my plate into my book bag. _There goes a hundred calories I won't get._ Father had me on a strict diet, so keeping Plagg happy was a sacrifice on my part. I tried not to take it out on my kwami because the little guy needed to eat too. _But did it have to be Camembert?_ Then again, I guess it was better than chocolate chip cookies.

"Oh, and a reminder that you have a history quiz tomorrow," Nathalie said.

I pushed my empty plate forward. "Is that everything?"

Her eyes scanned the schedule one last time. "Yes, that's all."

"Guess I should head to school," I said, and slung my bag over my shoulder.

She nodded, then folded her hands together. "Have a nice day, Adrien."

* * *

Marinette, Nino, and Alya stood gathered on the front steps at school, amidst the wave of students passing by. I caught part of their conversation as I approached. The others patiently listened as Marinette gushed about a video game coming out Saturday. But not just _any_ game. This was _Mecha Strike IV._

"It's going to be amazing!" she said dreamily. "I can feel it."

"Better than III?" I asked, and stepped into the circle.

She startled when she saw me, and just like that, her shyness returned. She'd always been like this, but I'd noticed it even more now that she knew I was Chat Noir.

 _Do I really intimidate her that much?_

"Did you see the newest trailer?" I asked.

She fidgeted with the strap of her bag. "Well. . ."

I gave her a smile, to try and put her at ease. "And? What'd you think?"

"The graphics look improved." She tilted her head, as if considering her words. "But I'm a little worried about the new Mechs they're adding."

"Oh, that's the least of your worries," I said, trying to keep a straight face.

Her eyes widened, and she glanced uncertainly over at Alya and Nino. ". . . It is?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. You should be worrying about how I'm going to kick your butt when it comes out."

She gave me a sly look, and I was a little disappointed that she didn't laugh. "That's big talk, Agreste."

Yeah. It really was. We both knew she could crush me at Mecha Strike anything, anytime.

I struggled not to laugh as I went on. "Not as big as the shadow of your looming defeat."

She put her hands on her hips. "But not as big as your ego, apparently."

"Dudes, chill." Nino edged between us. "Can we put the rivalry on hold for a minute?"

Reluctantly, I was the first to break eye contact with her. "What's up, Nino?"

"I was just wondering if you two are free after school. Alya and I thought the four of us could catch a movie, go out for gelato, maybe?"

I glanced at Marinette and caught the look of suspicion she shot at Alya.

 _Did I miss something?_

Nino gave me a friendly punch to the shoulder. "Like a double daa-"

Alya jabbed him in the ribs, none too gently. "Double da fun!" she finished, forced enthusiasm dripping from her words.

Nino rubbed his bruised side. "Yeah, that's what I was gonna say, dude."

A warm breeze swept past, and I glanced at the sky. "I usually have basketball practice on Wednesdays, but I've been dismissed. Doctors don't want me doing anything extraneous for a few days." I shot Marinette a smile. "What about you?"

She paled. "Today?"

"Is that a problem?" Alya asked.

Maybe she had homework to catch up on. I know I did, especially after losing all of Saturday to my stupid concussion.

She was quiet for a moment, obviously contemplating something, something that looked more troubling than homework.

"What is it?" I asked her.

Marinette looked over at the others again, then turned to me. "Are you alright with this? I mean, it's not a date," she whispered, her face crimson.

It started as a warm feeling inside, and came out in a chuckle. I rested a hand on her shoulder, feeling bad about laughing at her. "No, it's not. You don't have to feel awkward about it."

She looked up at me through her bangs, still furiously blushing. "I guess if you're okay with it. . ."

I gave her another smile. She was probably worried about things being weird between us, and I thought that was kind of cute. "It'll be fun."

"Sure," she cleared her throat, but her voice still came out hushed. "I can make it."

* * *

Later that day as I headed to history class, I couldn't help but hear someone shouting in the girls' locker room. It didn't take me long to guess who it was. _Chloe must have finally lost it._ I paused in the doorway, immediately feeling as though I was intruding, but could see now that she was yelling at Sabrina.

"Just leave me alone," Chloe said, fire in her eyes.

Sabrian hugged her bag to her chest and took a step back. "B-but Chloe?"

"GET AWAY FROM ME."

I winced. _I wonder what it was this time?_ Knowing Chloe, it could have been something small. Even if it wasn't she had no right to speak to her friend that way.

Sabrina stood, stunned. She took a hesitant step back, then spun around and ran for the door. As she brushed past me, I could see the tears forming behind her glasses.

I looked back at Chloe, and studied her before I said anything. She didn't seem to realize I was there. She stuffed things from her locker into her bag, then slammed the door. Her entire body tensed, and she let out a hot breath.

"Chloe?" I ventured in, and kept my tone soft and even. The last thing I wanted to do was rile her up again. "Are you alright?"

She startled, and looked at me for a moment before she burst into tears.

I took a cautious step toward her. "Is something the matter?"

The school bell rang. And when it died down, it was deathly silent.

Chloe struggled to open her bag, her hands shaky. She finally pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. "I-I. . ."

I held up a hand in a calming gesture. "It's alright. Do you want to talk about it?"

I knew we were already late for class. But it'd been a long time since I'd seen her like this. I couldn't just walk away. Not when I could help.

"It's my fault Daddy was akumatized. I just know it. . ." She clutched the tissue to her heart. "I'm a terrible daughter."

It took everything in me not to let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Look, your Dad loves you, Chloe. If you've done something to hurt him, then just apologize."

She gave me a shocked look. "Apologize?"

"You know," I prompted. "It's what people do when they've done something they regret?"

Her hands clenched to fists. "I know that, Adrien!"

 _Uh oh._

"Okay, I know, I'm sorry," I said.

A fresh wave of tears came, but this time it was quiet, a tiredness that washed over her. "It's not just my Father," she said, her voice low. "Everyone hates me."

"I don't."

Almost faster than I could process, she threw her arms around me. Chloe was always trying to get close to me, to find an excuse to touch me. But this was different. She buried her face in my chest and her shoulders shook from a sob. She wasn't being flirtatious, or trying to get anyone's attention. She was only seeking comfort.

I cleared my throat, then patted her on the shoulder. "It's okay, Chlo."

"Thanks, Adrien," she whispered into my shirt. "I don't deserve a friend like you," she said, then pulled away.

I shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Everyone deserves a friend."

She brushed a hand over her hair to smooth it back into place. "I, um," she murmured, seeming a bit uncomfortable herself. "Thank you."

I looked over my shoulder. "Speaking of friends, why don't you start by apologizing to Sabrina?"

She bit her lip. "Okay. You're right."

Chloe started to go, but hesitated. She came back to my side, stood on tiptoe, and placed a light kiss on my cheek. Then she was gone.

Well. Who would have thought? After all this time, maybe Chloe would change. Maybe she already had.

* * *

When school was over, I ditched my bodyguard to meet up with my friends. We went down to the metro to catch a ride to the theater. The doors slid closed behind us, and the train pulled from the station.

Most of the seats were full, so the four of us circled around a pole, hands jumbling together. I noticed the look Marinette gave my hand, like she wished it wasn't so close to hers. I waited a beat, then slipped my hand higher and away from hers. I tried to make the movement as casual as possible, but I caught the quick glance she gave me. She'd noticed.

Alya pulled out her phone. "Now we have to decide what we wanna see."

Nino leaned in close to see over her shoulder. "What's showing?"

"The sequel to that awful action movie you like." She shook her head at him, the went back to reading off films. "Zombies. . . Ooo. _Romance?_ "

"H-how about zombies?" Marinette asked, almost forcefully.

I gave her a weird look. "Really?"

She shrank back. "Well, I don't know, if you'd rather see something else-"

"No, it's fine." I grinned. "It's just funny hearing you say it."

She wrinkled her nose, further proving my point.

Alya gave Nino a teasing look. "Anything's better than sitting through another montage of buildings and cars blowing up."

Once we reached the station, and got our tickets, we filed into the darkened room to find out seats. I ended up sitting beside Marinette, and as I settled into my chair, I smelled something strangely familiar. I glanced at her, a foggy memory surfacing. When the scent had clouded my senses, her hair had brushed against my forehead.

"You smell nice," I said, as the memory crystallized and I realized I'd said exactly that to her before.

She choked on her drink. "Oh, uh, yeah. I g-guess. You thank? I mean think you?"

Alya gave Marinette a worried look and a pat on the back. "I think she means thank you."

 _Oops. I forgot._

Maybe complimenting the way she smelled wasn't the best way to make this feel like it wasn't a date.

The lights dimmed, and the film began.

Afterwards, we walked to a gelato shop Alya confessed as her _bien-aimé_ or beloved. The sun shined down on us and warmed my skin, even as a cool breeze swept past. It was a prefect evening.

We weren't the only ones enjoying it, either. People walked by, couples holding hands, tourists taking in the sights. A family riding bicycles went by, with two sisters, maybe 12 and 10, and a young boy strapped into the mother's bike. The younger of the two girls smiled shyly at me, and I waved as they cycled past.

We finally reached the gelato shop, nestled between a flower shop and a book store. The building was painted ivory, and a pink and white awning stretched over the patio, where a few tables were laid out.

I reached the door first and held it open for the others, and a woman that came up behind us.

She tilted her head, so I could see her face past her sunhat. "Thank you, young man."

"You're welcome."

The inside had a white floor with a stripe of pink tile that led from the door to the counter. The walls and counter were covered in subway tile. Vintage gelato and ice cream advertisements hung along the length of the room. And the entire place smelled like summer.

Nino and I started to pull our wallets out from our pockets when Alya shook her head at us.

"Nuh uh. We'll take care of the gelato," she said, and put an arm around Marinette.

I smirked. "C'mon, Alya-"

She held up a hand for silence. "Don't even try to change my mind."

"You guys payed for the popcorn," Marinette added.

"Yeah but we ate most of it anyways." Nino smiled. "At least, I did."

"What flavor do you want?" Alya asked.

Nino sighed and slid his wallet back into his jeans. "Mango."

She patted his shoulder. "There's a good boy. Wait here, alright?"

Marinette gave me a skittish look. "I uh, too yours order I guess?"

I glanced over at the menu. "I feel like pistachio. What are you getting?"

"I usually get strawberry," she answered.

I nodded. "Good choice."

She cleared her throat, and pointed back at the counter. "I'll, uh, go get in line now."

Nino laughed, then reached over to place a light punch to my shoulder. "What do ya know. Guess Alya was right."

"What?"

"Dude, you can't see? 'Nette's crazy about you."

I glanced at Marinette, standing next to Alya in line. She glanced back, and caught me looking. We exchanged a weak wave before she forcably turned her back to me.

I frowned. "Of course she's not, Nino."

He thumbed through the playlist on his phone. "Hey, I'm just making an observation here. You can leave me out of it all. I think we should just leave you poor dorks be, but Alya can be scary persuasive-"

"Alya?" My eyes narrowed.

"Yeah. This was her idea. She said it was a test or something." He shrugged. "Sorry, man."

So. This whole thing was part of Alya's plan to get Marinette and I together? Maybe that's why Mari had been so weird about this. Maybe she'd known.

Of course, I should probably consider the possibility that Alya might be right. That Marinette _did_ in fact have feelings for me.

But she didn't. She couldn't, right?

Though it might explain a few things.

The girls came back, gelato in hand. My green pistachio, Nino's bright orange, Alya had something chocolaty looking, and Marinette's was a pastel pink, the same as the tile on the floor.

Marinette held mine out, along with a napkin.

"Thanks, Mari," I said. "This looks amazing."

It couldn't be helped that our hands brushed as she handed it to me.

"Y-you're welcome," she stammered.

I decided not to dwell on what Nino had said, and instead ate a spoonful of gelato, without feeling the tiniest bit guilty for cheating on my diet. "Mmm. . ."

Marinette giggled. "Good?"

"Amazing," I said through another mouthful. I swallowed, then pointed to the side of her bowl. "Watch out, you have a drip."

"Hey, I know a nice spot we can sit while we eat," Alya said.

Nino held up his spoon. "Show us the way, oh great Majestia."

* * *

The place Alya led us to was a quiet bench that overlooked the Siene. It was even cooler here, close to the water, below the street. The sound of traffic was distant, and instead we heard the motors of boats as they went by and passed under the arch of a nearby bridge. It was a peaceful place.

"Hey, Adrien," Nino said. "What do you think about going to the release for Mecha Strike IV on Saturday?"

Alya, who sat on the opposite end of the bench from me, nudged Marinette. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Marinette took another bite of her gelato and nodded, silent.

"Calm down girl." Alya gave her a searching look. "This morning you couldn't stop talking about it. You're not excited about it now?"

"Of course I am, Alya," Marinette said, quietly stressing each word.

"You don't have a photo shoot Saturday, do you?" Nino asked me.

I grinned. "Nope. No photo shoots, no fittings. I'll be there."

For a while Nino and I talked about the school's basketball team, then the album he'd been listening to, then about the history test that I forgot to study for.

Alya gave a pointed look at Marinette, who hadn't spoken in a while. "Maybe Marinette could help you study."

I froze. _Oh yeah, this is supposed to be Alya hooking me up with Marinette, isn't it?"_

Marinette stared down into her bowl. "You know history's not my strong point, Alya."

Alya just sighed in response. There was a moment of silence, and then she jumped up. "Oh, I forgot! I told my mom I'd help watch the kids. I totally spaced." Her eyes narrowed. "Hey, Nino."

"What?"

She gave the slightest indication with her head toward the stairs that led back to the street.

Nino gave her a blank look. "What is it?"

She cleared her throat. "Don't you have a curfew or something?"

"Alya, it's not even supper time yet," he said.

"I know," she said, through clenched teeth.

I raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no." She frowned thoughtfully at the ground. ". . . Actually, I don't want to take the metro alone. Would you mind going with me, Nino?"

Nino narrowed her eyes at her.

"Oh, well we'll all go," Marinette said, starting up.

Alya put a hand on her shoulder and eased her back down. "That's not necessary. Besides, you two haven't finished your gelato."

"Neither have I," Nino said, though it was barely audible.

Alya grabbed his hand. "You can eat it on the way."

"Okay," I said. "Guess we'll see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Alya agreed eagerly. "Bye, now."

They left, leaving an empty space between Marinette and I on the bench, where Nino had been sitting just a minute ago. For a moment it was quiet, aside from the sound of water, and the gentle thrum of traffic in the distance.

I glanced over and noticed Marinette had stopped eating her gelato, and was staring out at the Siene. "Are you full?"

She startled, like I'd brought her out of deep thought. "What? Oh. Yeah."

Again, quiet.

I stared at the empty space on the bench, feeling awkward about sitting so far from her, but feeling equally awkward about moving closer.

She held out the paper bowl. "You don't want the rest, do you?"

I smiled. "Well, it'd be a shame to let such good gelato go to waste."

So we sat for a while longer, as I scraped the last bite of pistachio from my bowl, then picked up the strawberry and started to finish it off too.

Marinette quickly occupied herself, and pulled out her sketchbook and a purple pen, tongue peeking out as she concentrated.

My curiosity started to eat at me. "What's that you're working on?"

She looked up, flustered, and tilted the book away from me. "Oh, nothing really. I just. . ." She gave me a studying look, then leaned over to show me.

There were some quick sketches of trees along the edge of the page I quickly recognized as the trees sitting by the edge of the river. In the center of the page was a drawing of a hand and a ring on the fourth finger. It was my hand, and my ring.

My eyes went to my miraculous, then back to the sketch. "Wow. That's so cool." I leaned in more, the space between us growing smaller. I reached out a hand and tentatively touched the edge of the book. "Would you mind showing me more?"

She shrank away and hugged the sketchbook to her chest. "Well, I dunno. They're not all that great."

"Why don't you let me decide for myself?"

She pressed her lips together and looked at me from the corner of her eye.

I slowly eased away. Maybe I'd been wrong to push. But from what I'd seen already, she didn't have anything to feel insecure about. I already knew she was bursting with talent. "It's okay," I said. "You don't have to show me."

Marinette took in a deep breath, then laid out her sketchbook, and spread it open across the bench between us. She look at me, blue eyes searching for something. "You don't have to tell me you like them, just to be nice. Okay?"

"Okay."

I rested my right arm over the back of the bench and angled my body toward her and the sketchpad, and leaned in to study the pages. There were bright colors and bold lines. I saw her personality shining through each design. Not painfully shy, awkward Marinette. This was who she was inside, coming out, almost dancing over each page.

I turned to the next one, and shook my head. "Wow."

She shot me a sideways glance. "You really like them?"

"I think they're _amazing_ ," I told her.

Her eyes lit up. "You do?"

"I do-" I paused when I turned to a page with a single sketch on it. It was graphite with watercolors splashed over it. An angular figure, black, with ears and a tail, and sharp, bright green eyes. "Th-that's _me?"_

She snatched up the book, and once again angled it away from me. "Uh, I. . . well. . . um."

"I didn't know you were such a Chat Noir fan," I said, a hint of boasting in my voice.

Her eyes narrowed. "No, it's just. I haven't always been. I mean I was, but. . ." She closed her sketchbook, eyes wandering back to the Siene. "That was a more recent picture."

Once again, the silence fell over us. I looked at the bowl of strawberry gelato. What little was left had thoroughly melted.

"You ready to go?" I asked.

She tucked her sketchbook and pen into her bag and stood. "I'm ready."

I gathered paper bowls and plastic spoons and went over to a nearby bin and tossed them in. We went up the stairs, and started down the brick street. At first I slowed so Marinette could keep up with her shorter legs, but soon enough I was the one that had to step quicker to keep up.

She walked with a certainty in her step. Not exactly rushing, but eager, I guess. And her head constantly turned, to take in our surroundings. That's one of the reasons I knew she was so creative. Like she could see something special in the little things most people wouldn't give a second glance.

We passed the gelato shop, the flower shop, and the cafes. It wasn't as busy as before, because supper time was coming fast. I imagine most people were at home, sitting down with their families.

It took me a moment to realize Marinette had slowed. I stopped, and gave her a confused look. "What is it?"

She tilted her head toward the small park to our left. "That girl."

I came to stand beside her, and scanned the area. The benches, and shade trees. The fountain, with birds perched on the edge, and a small girl sitting there, her shoulders slumped. My heart clenched. Was she crying?

"I think something's wrong," Marinette said, her voice soft. "She looks alone."

"Let's go."

We went down the path, over to the fountain. As we drew closer, I felt something familiar about the girl, and finally realized she'd been one of the girls riding a bike, the one I'd waved at.

". . . Are you okay?" I asked.

She gasped, and looked up at us in surprise. Tears stained her freckled cheeks, but her eyes lit up when she saw me. She said something, her voice filled with relief. . . but she spoke in English.

I gave a panicked look to Marinette. "Do you understand English?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't."

Now I felt irritated with myself. Father had asked that I learn English, but I'd chosen to learn Mandarin first, and told him I would learn English later.

"Do you know any French?" I asked, trying to speak as clearly as I could.

The girl's nose wrinkled as she concentrated. "Je suis. . . perdu."

"Did you get separated from your family?"

She nodded. "Plaît aide moi?"

Marinette pulled out her phone. "I'll call the police. They're probably looking for her already."

I sat next to the girl on the edge of the fountain. "Can you tell me your name?"

She wiped her nose with the hem of her shirt. "Emily."

Marinette told the police the girl's name and description, and told them where we were. She hung up then knelt down at eye level with the girl, kindness sparkling in her as she spoke. "It's alright, Emily. You'll be back with your family in no time."

I gave Marinette a second glance, and really looked at her. For a moment, I could have sworn. . . I shook the thought off. It was only my head messing with me, of course, but she'd reminded me of someone.

Emily started to cry again. "Thank you, thank you," she said, over and over again.

Marinette gave me a sad look, and seemed unsure of how to comfort the girl.

"Can I have your sketchbook?" I asked.

"Okay. . ." Marinette pulled it from her bag and handed it to me. "What do you want it for?"

I flipped to an empty page and drew four lines, forming a tic tac toe board. I held it out to Emily. "Want to play?"

She sniffed, and gave me a confused look.

I drew an X in the top left corner, then offered her the pen. "Here."

So the three of us sat and had a tic tac toe tournament. It was about four minutes until the police car pulled up beside the curb outside the park, and by then the page and the next were completely full.

Two officers got out from the front and a man, obviously a civilian, got out the back. When Emily saw him, her eyes lit up and she leapt off the ledge of the fountain and ran.

I closed Marinette's sketchbook and watched as Emily finally reached the man, who took her up and wrapped her in his arms. And even though I didn't understand a word he said, I knew that he loved his child.

* * *

"You look happy," Marinette said, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I looked from the window and the sides of the tunnel passing by, to where she sat beside me. We were on the metro, on our way home. We'd been sitting quietly for several stops, and now, she gave me a quiet smile, as if my own was infectious.

"Doesn't it feel good to be a hero?" I asked her.

She looked down at her feet, and I could only guess she was blushing. "I wouldn't exactly say I was a hero."

I leaned closer. "I think you are."

She jolted, chin up, her eyes wide. "I-I-"

"Come on, Mari. Learn to take a compliment."

"Okay," she mumbled, then gave me a careful look. "So how'd I do?"

"Well, you're no Ladybug, but you did alright." _Oops. That was rude._ "No, I didn't mean it like that-"

She burst into a fit of giggles.

I gave her a dark look. "What's funny?"

"You are."

I leaned my head against the window, and crossed my arms, and listened intently to the rhythm of the train as it passed over the tracks.

"Oh, stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting," I said, though we both knew I was.

We caught each other's eyes and laughed. It felt good. Like it was right for us to be sitting together, to laugh together. Though we got a few odd looks from some of the passengers.

Marinette leaned back into her chair, closed her eyes, and let out a contented sigh. Looking at her, I suddenly felt the fatigue of my busy day fall over me and I settled against the window again.

The train stopped, and people moved for the doors, filing out into the station. But this wasn't our stop, so we stayed right where we were. And an idea hit me.

"Hey."

Marinette opened one eye. "What is it?"

I straightened in my seat. "I just had an idea."

She opened both eyes. ". . . What sort of idea?"

"So I have to be at the show my Father is putting on tomorrow evening. He's showing some pieces from his new collection." I took a moment to gauge her expression, then rushed on. "I don't think they're all that great but. . . the shows I mean, not the clothes." I paused. "Would you want to come?"

"To your father's show?"

I swallowed. "Yeah. I mean, I know you're into fashion so. . . I mean, if you don't want to, of course you don't have to."

"Want to?" she said, voice hushed. _"Want to?_ "

"Well. . . do you?"

"I'd love to!" she cried, so loud that the other passengers gave her some amused, but mostly annoyed looks. Marinette clasped her hands together, her eyes bright. "Oh, Adrien."

Seeing her so happy made me feel warm inside. Especially because I'd made her happy.

I smiled, feeling a bit wicked for teasing her. "Don't worry. It's not a date."

"Oh. Right. Of course." She blinked. "Not a date. Just friends. Going to an event together. . ."

I frowned, a very unpleasant thought surfacing. "Oh."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I just hope Father agrees to let you come."

What if he didn't? What if he said no?

 _Wouldn't surprise me at all._

"Well." She gave me a determined look. "Even if he says no, it was still sweet of you to invite me. Thank you, Adrien."

I grinned. "You're welcome, Mari."

* * *

Despite her many stammered protests, I walked Marinette from the metro to her home. We were only a block away when the skies opened, and poured a thick sheet of rain on us. We ran the rest of the way, clothes and shoes completely soaked through by the time we reached the door.

The warmth of the bakery wrapped around me as soon as I stepped in. I almost stopped in my tracks. _Oh. That smell._ My stomach grumbled and my mouth watered.

Marinette hugged herself and shivered. "That rain came out of nowhere."

"Marinette," Mr Dupain said, coming from the kitchen. His clothes were dusted in flour, his mustache neatly trimmed, and his face had wrinkles, the kind you get from years of smiling. "There you are, honey muffin."

"Hi, Papa."

He chuckled. "Looks like you two got a little wet."

"Yeah, it's raining cats and-" I stopped when Marinette gave me a cross look.

"Tom!" Sabine called from upstairs. "Is that Marinette?"

"Yes, dear," he called back.

She appeared at the top of the stairs. "I thought I heard voices." She shuffled down and gave Marinette and empathetic look. "Oh, honey, you're soaked."

"I know, Mama." She went over to the counter and picked up a damp towel and busied herself, wiping the surface down. "Sorry I'm late for supper."

"Hello, Adrien," Sabine said. She gave me an appraising look, and I stood a little straighter.

Marinette's parents seemed such nice people, but it was times like this I couldn't help feel a little nervous. Did they like me? Did they like me hanging out with their daughter? What if they didn't?

"Feeling better, I hope?" Sabine asked.

"Oh yes," I said. "Better everyday." I glanced at Mr. Dupain. "I really should thank both of you for-"

"Nonsense," He said. "I'm just glad it wasn't more serious."

"Well," I said, and took a step back. "I don't want to keep you from your supper."

Sabine looked me over and clucked her tongue. "Now, what would your father think, us sending you home like that? Out in this weather?"

I looked out through the store windows. The clouds let filtered light down, the rain coming down in sparkling form. It had a certain allure to it. I smiled. "I don't mind the rain much."

"How about you stay for supper? We can let your clothes dry, and maybe the rain will have stopped," Sabine offered.

Marinette whirled around. "Mama!"

Sabine just smiled, sweet and innocent as ever.

 _Oh. I see. It's not just Alya in on this._

I shrugged. "Well I uh, do have homework I need to do-"

"-Yes, homework," Marinette said. She brushed some wet hair away from her eyes. "Lots of homework, Mama."

Sabine nodded her head, short hair bobbing. "Yes, of course. Some other time, then?"

I glanced at Marinette and she gave me a nervous smile, cheeks rosy as ever.

"I'd like that," I said finally. And I meant it.

* * *

It didn't take me long to get home, thanks to a little hep from Chat Noir. I slid through the window into my room. I shut it, and the room fell silent, save the soft patter of rain against the roof. I detransformed and Plagg spiraled straight for the couch.

"You know I hate the rain, Adrien," he whined. "Why didn't you listen to those nice people? They offered you free food."

I grabbed a piece of cheese and tossed it onto the couch beside him. "Just be glad there wasn't lightening."

That shut him up. He was always touchy about his fear of thunderstorms, ever since I found out one night during a really bad one. Plagg gave me a salty glare before turning his attention to his Camembert.

I walked through the still corridors, past doors to rooms, filled with extravagant furniture, that went on untouched. The house smelled lightly of peppermint and leather, and the trace of something floral. My wet shoes creaked against the stark marble floors, and I'm sure I left a trail of drips behind me.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, at the front entrance, Nathalie came by, pen and pad of paper in hand. "Hey, Nathalie?"

She looked up, and gave my wet clothes a brief inspection, and came to a stop. "Yes, Adrien?"

"Is my Father in?" I asked, breath tight.

There was a chance he'd be out for the evening. Or in his office, busy and not to be disturbed. I didn't make a habit of visiting him. But I had a little business to attend to.

Nathalie's eyebrows drew together, ever so slightly. "Yes, Adrien. He's in his office."

"Thank you." I waited, as she went on her way and the sound of her heels against the tile died away. I stared at the looming double doors to my left. Deep breaths, shoulders straight, chin up.

I crossed the room, and reached a hand up, only to pause, dread caught in the pit of my stomach.

 _It's for Marinette, right?_

I rapped my knuckles against the wood.

A moment of nothing, then, "come in."

I pushed the doors in, and there sat my Father. At his desk, as always. He had a stack of envelopes and important papers sitting in front of him. There were prints of photographs of clothing from his newest collection. His attention was on his iPad, as he scrolled through something. He didn't look up until I'd seated myself in the stiff chair across from him.

"Well, Adrien, what brings you here?" His eyes widened. "What on earth have you done to your clothes?"

"Just a little rain, I'm fine-"

"You've absolutely ruined them," he said, and gave me a harsh look. "What possessed you to go out into the rain?"

I wanted to shift in my seat, but I wouldn't let him see me squirm. "I forgot my umbrella."

He set down the tablet, never taking his eyes off me. "And it seems you forgot your bodyguard, as well."

Oh. _Right._

"Father-"

"I don't want to hear any excuses."

I shut my mouth.

The silence weighed heavy in the room, and I felt the chill take hold of me, my wet clothes clinging to my skin like ice.

Father began to put the prints of his line inside a yellow envelope. "I assume you had something you wanted to ask me?"

I swallowed. ". . . Well, yeah."

"And?"

His focus seemed almost entirely on his photographs.

"You're not busy, now, are you?"

He rapped the envelope against the desktop to settle the pictures inside. "Not too busy to hear what you have to say, but too busy for you to go beating around the bush. Just come out with it."

I folded my hands in my lap. "I um, was wondering. . . about the show tomorrow night."

He perked up a bit at this.

"Would it be alright if I. . . if I. . . brought a plus one with me?"

There. I'd said it. No taking it back now.

 _Please say yes, please say yes._

He raised an eyebrow, and comprehension slowly spread over his face. "And who would this proposed plus one be?"

"Her name's Marinette," I said. "She's in my class at school, and she loves fashion so I think she'd really appreciate being there."

He was quiet as he thought it through.

I suppose he was more than a little likely to say no, but I wished he'd say yes. Marinette would love going. I saw it in her eyes when I asked. But I didn't wish he'd say yes just for her sake. I wanted to have her there with me.

These things were normally loud and crowded, and I had to talk to a bunch of people who really only wanted to get to my Father through me. There were crazed young fans, and older people who would look down their noses at me, wishing I wasn't there.

"I suppose there's no harm in it," he finally said. "As long as you both behave properly, of course."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "She'll be wonderful, don't worry."

"And you?"

"Will be on my best behavior," I promised.

He turned his attention to his tablet. "I suppose the matter's settled, then."

That was my cue to leave.

"Thank you, Father. I know she'll really appreciate this."

He gave me a dismissive "Mmph" sound.

I got up to leave, but as my hand touched the doorknob, he called after me.

"What will this girl be wearing to the show?"

I restrained the urge to sigh. Of course Father would care about that. "I don't know."

"Nathalie will oversee wardrobe. Perhaps you can bring this girl along to your fitting tomorrow? I'm sure we can find her something suitable to wear."

"Yes, Father."


	4. Act One: IV

"Marinette?" The trapdoor creaked as it opened. "Marinette, Mr. Agreste's assistant just called me to schedule a fitting for your dress?"

". . . Dress?" I mumbled, and lifted my head just enough to see my clock through my sleepy haze. I stuffed my face back into my pillow, resolved to stay there. "Mama, it's early."

She crossed my room and came to stand below my bunk. "Marinette, get out of bed this minute and tell me what's going on. She said something about a fashion show?"

That got me.

I shot up, threw my blanket off and leaned over the railing of my bed. "The fashion show!"

Mama tilted her head. "So you know what this is about?"

I stumbled down the ladder to the floor and slipped my slippers over my bare feet. "He said yes!"

"Who did?"

I twirled in a circle, unaware that gravity still had a hold on me. I was floating, I swear.

Mama took hold of me by my shoulders to stop me spinning. "Now, Marinette."

I giggled, only in part because of how dizzy I suddenly felt. "Sorry, Mama. I'm just so happy!" I bounced up and down. "Adrien invited me to a fashion show tonight, but we didn't know if his father would be okay with it, _but he said yes._ "

* * *

To stand there on the sidewalk outside of Mr. Agreste's studio was a dream come true. But I got to go _inside._ I got to walk across the marbled floor, underneath the chandeliers, past the fountain trickling in the center of the entryway.

At this hour of the morning, plenty of people bustled here and there. Some toted coffees and papers, or garment bags with Gabriel's logo on it. Some were dressed in fine suits, with dazzling accessories, like flashy watches, leather shoes, and jewelry so elegant I had to remind myself to breathe.

It surrounded me, the people, the smells, the sunlight that glittered on the tile. I spun, trying to take it all in, a bit disoriented. I accidentally backed up into Adrien, who caught me by the arm when I stumbled.

"Oh, s-sorry," I said, now oblivious to the scene passing us by.

He kept his hand there, for just a moment, as if to make sure I wouldn't fall. "No worries. You okay?"

I nodded, heat quickly filling my face. "Y-yeah. I was just trying to take it all in. Guess I forgot to watch where I was going."

Something odd entered his eyes. "You like it?"

"Like it?" I clasped my hands together. "I-I think it's. . . amazing."

Mr. Agreste's assistant, Nathalie, slowed and looked over her shoulder, a ghost of a smile on her face. "Follow me, please."

She led us through the crowed, till we reached large double doors leading into a room with floor to ceiling mirrors, and velvety chairs the color of dusk.

There was a young woman waiting for us. Her name tag read "Harper Beauchêne" and she wore all white save her bright pink hair and nude heels. Despite her shoes, she was still a good three inches shorter than Adrien.

"Ah." She looked me over. "So here is your date, Monsieur Adrien."

"Sorry about the short notice, Harper," Nathalie said, as she closed the doors behind us.

That left the room hushed. Even so, my voice nearly drowned in the massive room. "Actually, I'm uh, not his date."

Both women gave me a look of surprise.

Adrien let out a weak laugh. "Yeah, we're only friends."

I gave him a grateful look for backing me up on this one. "Right."

Harper's eyes landed on me. "I see." She came closer, and I shrank a step back, but she reached out and began to inspect my jacket, humming to herself as she went. "I see you're fond of pink."

"Yes," I said quietly.

Her eyes flickered with curiosity. "And this jacket is not store bought?"

"N-no. I made it."

"I think I might have something for you," she said, then rushed off, through another door, purpose in her step.

Adrien gave me a smile. "That's Harper, alright. She can be. . . interesting."

"Mm." I tilted my head. "I think I like her."

Nathalie took a seat on one of the dark couches and brought out her phone. "Go ahead and try on your clothes, Adrien."

He sighed. "Alright." He went over to a rack of clothing and picked up a garment bag hanging on the very end. "Is this it?"

Nathalie glanced up. "Yes."

"I'll be right back, okay, Marinette?" he asked.

I nodded as I watched him head toward the changing room. "Alright."

That left Nathalie and I alone. My eyes wandered for a while, to take in the tile and lush carpet. I glanced back at the assistant, still occupied with her phone.

"Do you and Adrien come here a lot?" I asked, and forced myself to sound friendly and confident

Nathalie glanced up, a hint of amusement in her voice. "That would be an understatement, my dear."

"Oh."

"Adrien has to come here often for fittings and photo shoots. And when he's here, I am."

I brushed a hand over one of the chairs, savoring the touch of lush velvet. "I see."

"You're in his class, aren't you?"

I looked up and smiled. "Yeah, I am."

"Hm," she said, and then her eyes went back to her phone.

Adrien stepped out of the dressing room wearing dress pants, a white button up, and a red tie. "Okay, Nathalie."

Her eyes went up to inspect him. "Yes, that fits well. But don't take it off until Harper's okayed it."

As if she'd been summoned, Harper burst through the door. "I think I've found it!"

I giggled at her enthusiasm as she swept across the room and laid three dresses across the back of a couch. They were all so beautiful. One white, one red, and one a perfect pink. My hand immediately went to touch it, to feel the softness of the skirt.

Harper's eyes twinkled. "I thought you'd like that one. Go ahead and try them on, if you'd like."

"Okay," I said, a bit breathless.

I took them over to the changing room and slipped into the white one, and blushed when I realized how low the front plunged. I quickly unzipped and tried the red dress on. It hugged my waist and there was a sheer layer over the top of the skirt that fluttered when I moved. I decided to go out and show the others, feeling much more comfortable about the neckline on this one.

Harper was inspecting Adrien's shirt, but stopped when she saw me. "Ah, there you are. Come, let me get a better look at you."

I stepped onto the raised portion of the floor in the center, and looked around at myself in each mirror. I was able to fully see the back of the dress, and I twirled a little to see the sheer part flutter again.

"It's bold, yet soft. Do you like it?" Harper asked.

I turned to face her, and caught my breath because Adrien was right _there_. "I, uh, I do. . ." I hadn't realized he was standing so close to me. Then again, the walkway wasn't intended for two people. I held my breath and glanced up at him to read his expression, to look for his approval, despite myself. I didn't want to care as much as I did about what he'd think of the dress. It was unnerving, really.

But. . . _Wait. Is he. . . blushing?_ No. It was just my imagination.

"What do you think?" I asked, and wished I didn't sound so shy, so insecure.

"It's looks nice," he said, and looked away before I could decide if he really _had_ blushed.

Harper ran a hand through her magenta hair. "Mm. Next dress."

"I'll put on the pink one," I said, and felt my stammer creeping up on me. "I d-didn't really like the white one."

She nodded. "That's fine, darling."

So I tried on the pink dress. My fingers were shaky as I zipped it up and straightened the straps on my shoulders. I went outside without really studying myself in the changing room's mirror. I had to concentrate on walking because my heart was beating so fast, and my knees felt weak.

Though it was more from excitement than fear.

Harper ushered me back onto the center part, and her eyes scanned the dress. "Hm."

That's when I looked out at the mirror to see. The dress had a swooshy skirt, and the entire thing was a prefect blush color. I spun around, fabric rustling, skirt billowing out. As I stilled, the hem came to rest just above my knee, the folds of the skirt laying just so. I knew whoever designed this dress had done so with a lot of care and attention to detail.

"It's beautiful," I said, barely a whisper.

"Is this the one?" Harper asked.

". . . It's perfect."

Nathalie gave a solemn nod. "I agree. It's a lovely dress. Harper?"

She took my hand and twirled me around once. "You look magnificent, darling."

I cast a shy look at myself in the mirror, feeling magnificent was a bit of an exaggeration on Harper's part. I glanced uncertainly at Adrien, who had that crooked grin on his face. My gaze dropped to the carpet. "Sorry for being such a dorkasaurus." I rubbed the toe of my shoe against the floor. "I'm not used to this kind of stuff."

"I think it's cute, seeing you get so excited," he said. "I do this kinda stuff all the time, and it's usually pretty boring."

 _Did. . . Did he just call me cute?_

If I'd been happy before, I was walking on a cloud now.

I tried to remind myself that he liked Ladybug, not me. _He's just saying that to be nice. That's all. Right?_

It didn't help much. Sometimes knowing something in your head is different than understanding it with your heart.

* * *

That afternoon was a blur of rushing to get something to eat for lunch, hurrying to school, then sitting in a daze through all my classes because concentrating was nigh impossible. Somehow I made it through my history quiz, but I don't know if I did all that well, considering.

After school, Harper came to my house to deliver my dress and do my hair and makeup. She set up station in the kitchen, and Mama brewed some tea while Harper set to work.

"Let's see what your hair looks like up," she said under her breath.

I leaned forward with my elbows against the counter, legs dangling from the stool. I sat still and watched as Mama took the boiling water from the stovetop and a puff of steam dissapated in the air. Harper gathered my loose hair and pulled it back, then carefully pinned it in place.

Adrien was right. She was a little odd, talking to herself, tucking things behind her ear then forgetting where she'd put it. She nearly spilled the cup of tea Mama made her. But she was also very kind and energetic.

"Voila!" Harper took a step back, a sparkle in her eyes as she admired her work.

Mama had been paging through a magazine, but looked up, a bit startled by Harper's exclaimation. She gasped as her eyes took me in. "Oh, honey." She closed the magazine, and tilted her head. "You look adorable."

"Thank you, Mama," I said.

"Your Papa needs to see this. I'll go get him." She scooted her stool away from the counter, and went downstairs to the bakery.

"Here." Harper pulled a hand mirror from her bag, round with silver edges, and placed it on the counter in front of me. "Take a look."

I stared at the reflection of the ceiling, butterflies caught in my stomach. I lifted the mirror, surprised that it was heavier than I expected. I angled it just so. . . and my mouth dropped.

Harper decided to put my hair up in a simple bun, but it made me look so much older. My lips were a soft pink, not something loud or bright, barely contrasting my skin. My eyes were shaded with a silvery color, my eyelashes dark and heavy.

"I could never do my eyeliner this good," I finally said, a bit in awe.

"You like it?"

I nodded. "Oh yes." I set the mirror down on the countertop, amongst Harper's other supplies. "Thank you, so much."

She gave me a wink. "I love your freckles by the way. I wish I still had mine, but they've faded since I've gotten older." She pulled a small, red case from her bag. "One last thing before you put on your dress."

I accepted the case and it opened with a snap. My stomach dropped. "Oh."

Harper set her cup of tea down. "You don't like them?"

I looked over the pair of earrings, set against the black velvet interior. "No, they're very nice." My fingers brushed against my miraculous. "It's just, these are special to me. . . sort of a good luck charm, I guess."

Harper brushed a strand of hair from her face, and gave me a reassuring smile. "Alright. If that's what you want."

I nodded, and handed the earrings back to her. "Thanks, Harper. You've made this whole thing go so smoothly. I still can't believe it's happening."

She put a hand to my cheek. "Thanks, kiddo. That's sweet of you." She went to the side of the stairs, where my dress hung, hooked over the railing, protected by one of those Gabriel garment bags. "Now. What'd you say you go slip this on? That way your papa will get the whole picture when he sees you."

I turned in my chair, a grin spread across my face. "Okay."

I hurried up to my room and slipped out of my t shirt and shorts, and discarded them on the floor. I took out the dress, and pulled it on with care. I took a moment to look at myself in the mirror, to feel the silky fabric once more. _One day, I want to design dresses like this._ I knew it was sort of silly, that a dress could make me feel prettier. After all, I was the same girl I always saw in the mirror.

Tiki peaked over the railing of my bed, her eyes bright. "Marinette! Oh, you look lovely."

"Thanks, Tiki." I heard voices from the kitchen and I hurried for the trap door. "I'll be back for you in a little bit, alright?"

I went downstairs, and twirled the moment my bare feet touched the hardwood floor. I felt practically dizzy with happiness, that bubbled out in a giggle I couldn't stop.

"There's my princess!" My Papa's eyes warmed, and he gestured down at his apron. "I'd give you a hug, but I don't want to get flour on your pretty dress."

I clasped my hands behind my back, and smiled shyly up at him. "That's alright, Papa."

Harper had set to packing her things while I was gone, and she'd nearly cleared off the kitchen counter. "Go ahead and get your shoes on. Nathalie will be here soon to pick you up."

"Let me take some pictures before you go," Mama said, and picked her phone off the counter.

She didn't have to tell me to smile, because I already was.

* * *

I went from bliss to dread in a moment. The moment the doorbell rang.

I trailed behind the others as we headed down the stairwell. The entryway was crowded, even before the door opened, and Nathalie and Adrien stepped in.

"Come in, come in," Papa said, his voice filled with the warmth that came from a smile.

I found myself hiding behind Harper as greetings were exchanged. I watched closely as Adrien shook my Papa's hand. I bit my lip to contain a giggle from the look of surprise that covered Adrien's face when Mama pulled him in for a quick hug.

Though I tried my best not to stare, it was hard not to.

His hair was styled even more particularly than usual. He was dressed in the clothes Harper had picked for him, only he'd rolled up the sleeves, and wore a different tie than what he'd tried on this morning at the studio. One that matched my dress perfectly.

I wondered if Harper had a pink tie laying around, or if she'd had it made just for tonight. Just because of me.

And to top it all off, even from where I hid against the edge of the room, I could tell, he smelled shamefully good. _I'm going to have to ride in a car. With that._

His eyes caught mine, the electric green, almost sparking. The corner of his mouth raised when he looked at me, and a smile slowly took hold.

There was a lull, an awkward quiet that settled over the group. Mama reached back for a hold on my arm, and guided me away from the wall, until I stood _right_ next to Adrien.

"Don't you two look cute as a button," Harper said.

My head ducked in embarrassment.

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien said. He sounded friendly, but cautious.

That made it even worse, knowing he could tell I wasn't comfortable.

I glanced up at him, and he gave me a little wave. In that moment I felt more shy than I had in my entire life. It didn't help that everyone was watching me, watching him, watching _us._

". . . Hi," I said, though it was painful.

 _This isn't a date. This isn't a date._

* * *

Sitting in the backseat of that car, alone with Adrien, I felt sick. I'd lost my ability to speak. I could barely look at him.

 _Pull yourself together, girl,_ my inner Alya told me.

"You excited?" Adrien asked.

It was the first time either of us had spoken, aside from when I thanked him for opening the car door for me. Yes. Yes he _did_ get the door for me. I don't know why it caught me off guard, I just. . . wasn't expecting it.

"Yeah, super excited," I said, my heart a fluttering mess. My phone rang and I quickly fumbled for it, desperate for a distraction. "Oh, it's Alya."

I answered, and she popped up on screen. "Girl! _Wow_. You look great!"

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Alya."

"Hey, is pretty boy there?"

Adrien leaned in close enough so she could see both of us. Close enough that his shoulder brushed mine.

My breath caught in my throat.

"Hey, Alya," he said.

Her eyes narrowed. "There you are-"

One of her sisters came into view, and tugged at her sleeve. "I want ice cream!"

"Not now, Ella. You'll spoil your supper."

There was a sigh of defeat, and the sound of little footsteps pattering away.

Alya turned back to her phone. "Anyway. I didn't get the chance to earlier, so now I'm going to give you a talking to, sir-"

"Alya, please," I said before she could continue.

"Stay out of this, Marinette. This is between me and Adrien."

He laughed at that, and his breath tickled my ear. I swallowed, becoming more aware of how freaking hot it was in this car.

"Would you mind turning the air up?" I asked.

"Sure," he said, and reached over to adjust the temperature.

"Alya," I said urgently, "whatever you're about to say, just remember that this isn't a date, you're not my overprotective best friend, and Adrien is a gentleman. And anyway-"

"I'm _right_ here," Adrien said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I know all that," Alya said. She leaned closer to her phone. "Hey, Adrien, listen, I need you to do me a favor and watch over my awkward best friend," she said. "There's no telling what she might bump into, knock over, or just all out break."

He leaned in again. "And let's not forget the stammering. She'll need me to act as a translator when she tries talking to anyone."

Alya laughed at that.

"Don't worry." He grinned at me. "I'll take good care of her."

I let out a puff of breath. It took every ounce of self control I had not to curl into a little ball and die of embarrassment. "I can't handle you two."

Alya chuckled. "We're just messing with you." Someone called her name from another room. "Oh, I gotta go," she said, getting to her feet. "I'll talk to you later. Have fun!"

Adrien settled back into his seat, allowing me to breath easier. It was a long moment of quiet before he glanced over at me. "I was just teasing about the stammering, you know."

"Of course," I said, proud of how precise my words sounded.

"And you don't have to feel intimidated by anyone there," he went on.

"Okay," I said, a little less sure.

He looked right at me. "And I won't disappear on you. I'll stay with you the whole time. . . if you want."

I smoothed my skirt, even if it didn't need to be adjusted. I was just too bashful to meet his gaze. "Thanks, Adrien."

Little less than three minutes later, we reached our destination. The driver pulled up to a walkway leading to a pier, where a boat sat waiting on the Siene.

I let out a gasp. "You didn't tell me we'd be on a boat."

"They put on theater shows and stuff. The inside's really cool," he said.

An attendant got the door for us, and we stepped out onto a white carpet. The sun was low, and rose tinted light stretched through the sky. Lights sparkled off the surface of the river.

And then the cameras started to flash. Photographers pressed closer to snap pictures of Adrien and of _me._ I suddenly felt very small and exposed. Like I didn't belong here at all. Almost unconsciously, I drew closer to Adrien. Close enough that my arm bumped his own.

His attention shifted away from the cameras and he gave me a look of concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm just a little anxious, I guess." I tried to smile, knowing the cameras were still watching. "It's nothing."

"It'll be over in a minute." He took my arm in his. "Just pretend they're not there."

As if his words cast a spell, they seemed to fade. Like it was just the two of us as he led me down the rest of the carpet. My shoulders relaxed and my breathing evened.

Soon enough, I stepped from solid ground onto the deck of _La Seule Paire Vraie._ The inside was grand, embellished further by more neon lights than I'd ever seen. Somewhere an orchestra played, and the music floated through the air and mixed with the cool breeze that came off the river through the windows.

We went along with the stream of people into the stage room. A high ceiling stretched over us, and rows of plush red seats lined the floor, all facing a stage with floor to ceiling curtains, scarlet and gold trimmed. The music filled the room now, as if it were all around me. The whole place buzzed with an atmosphere of anticipation.

Without thinking, my grip around his arm tightened. "This is like nothing I've ever seen before."

My whisper was nearly lost in the noise of the immense room. But he'd heard me. A smile spread across his face. "Come with me, Mari."

Of course, I should have known we wouldn't be sitting on the floor. Adrien led me up stairs and into a private box that overlooked the stage. A gold plate was stuck to the door, marked "Reserved, Agreste".

As we stepped inside, I saw the back of a head. Ivory hair slicked back, the shoulders of a finely tailored red suit. Then glasses and the sharp features of his face.

"Ah, Adrien," the man said. He stood, revealing his towering height. "There you are."

"Father," Adrien said. "This is Marinette." He looked at me, the green in his eyes sparkling again. "Marinette, this is my Father."

I resisted the strong urge to curtsy, and instead extended a hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Agreste."

His large hand dwarfed mine as he shook it. "And I you."

I wasn't sure what I expected Adrien's father to be like. At the same time, he was exactly what I supposed he'd be. I'd seen pictures of him before, of course. But I should know by now that a magazine won't tell you who a person really is.

"Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to come to your show," I said, trying my best not to melt into a starry eyed puddle.

Mr. Agreste took me in with a critical eye, as if he were trying to pick out the flaws in me. As if he were passing a silent judgment on me. It was something I wasn't used to.

 _How many times has Adrien had to endure that same look?_

"I see Harper performed adequately," Mr. Agreste said. "She's a wonderful stylist. Very. . . resourceful."

My throat closed, and I looked down at my dress, feeling a little embarrassed. I just stood there, as that feeling sank in again. The feeling of being very small and out of place. I could have sunk right through the floor. I almost wished I would.

And then, I felt a hand slip into mine. I looked at Adrien, and he looked at me. I swear, time stood still for a moment. It felt right. The flutter that caught in my chest. The way his fingers looped through mine. The safety I found with him by my side.

His grip tightened slightly, and I saw the spark in his eyes as he looked at his Father. "Maybe we should sit down."

My heart fell. Adrien had told me a little about his Father. I'd guessed a bit more. And now I saw how strained it was between them.

"The music is so pretty," I said, feeling like each word was a step across cracking ice.

Mr. Agreste nodded, his eyes giving me another studying look. "Agreed."

As I sank into my plush seat, I glanced at Adrien, then over at his Father. They both sat looking down at the stage, eyes tight, mouth set.

I'd seen pictures of Adrien's mother before, and he looked so very much like her. With his Father, the resemblance wasn't as easy to see. But in that moment I sure saw it.

Adrien glanced over, and caught me staring. "Doing alright?"

My eyes darted away, and my gaze finally moved from the box to the floor. "Yeah, I'm alright." I looked at him and smiled, that glow of excitement taking hold of me again. "I still can't believe I'm here."

His eyes softened at that.

I let out a breath of relief. Tonight was still special. I would still have have fun. I inched forward in my seat, better to see as people filled the rows below. I guessed there were a few hundred here. I pulled out my sketchbook and quickly got down some expressions of beautiful dresses that caught my eye.

And then, the music quieted, and the lights dimmed. I held my breath, and watched as the curtains parted and the show began.

* * *

"I am so sorry!" My hand latched onto the silver tray. The glasses of punch rattled as they settled, but at least they hadn't spilled. I gave a nervous smile at the server I'd walked right into. "You, uh, have good balance."

He gave me a dry look. "Thank you, madam. Drink?"

Adrien leaned in close, his voice too low for the man to hear. "If you were thirsty, you should've just asked."

I shook my head at the server. "Oh, no thank you."

The man let out the smallest sigh of relief, then hurried away, as if he couldn't get far enough from me fast enough.

I cringed. _Oh, well. I was bound to do something clumsy sooner or later._ I was thankful it hadn't been worse. Maybe now the rest of the evening could pass without incident.

After the show, we'd moved from the stage room to this dining room where people mingled, sipped their drinks, and sampled hors d'oeuvres. The orchestra still played, but much softer. Models strode across the floor to display pieces featured in the show, so people could get a closer look at Gabriel's dazzling new designs.

It was all so. . . overwhelming. I'd never imagined it would feel this way to be surrounded by so many people, all wearing fine clothes and jewelry that probably cost more than my parent's bakery.

Adrien gestured to another server, her tray loaded with all sorts of goodies. "Are you hungry?"

I shook my head, my stomach a mess of nerves and butterflies. I knew I wouldn't be able to swallow a thing.

He gave me a worried look. "Even a little bit?"

I laughed. "I'm fine, really."

He looked out at the hazy room, like he was searching for something. "Would you like to see the deck?"

 _Mm._

"That would be nice."

So we left the stuffy floor and stepped into the fresh air. The sun had dropped from the sky, and the city lights sparkled around us. In the distance, I could make out the Eiffel. I went to the railing and looked down at the dark water churning underneath the boat.

I closed my eyes, and just soaked it all in. The wind on my skin, the music, the distant sound of polite chatter. Aside from my nervousness, and well, Adrien's Father, the evening had been a perfect dream.

A bright light flashed. I opened my eyes to search for its source. I turned, and right there, stood a photographer.

"Smile for the camera," he chanted.

My hand tightened around the railing. _It's just a camera. It will go away. . ._

Adrien laid a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright," he said softly.

I gave the camera a weak smile, wanting nothing more than to run in the opposite direction. "It just startled me, is all."

Then another photographer appeared. "May I get your name, Madam? Who designed your dress?"

"How long have you two been dating?" the first asked.

"ADRIEN!" A group of young girls, obviously fans, pushed across the deck toward us.

"Can I get a picture with you?" one of them asked, and shoved against one of her friends just to get closer to him.

There was a tiredness that washed over him when he looked out at the small crowd that had gathered. But he lifted his chin and gave them all a charming smile. "Yes, of course," he said.

Even if none of them could, I saw through his practiced expression. I knew better.

I looked out at the fangirls and I saw _myself._ I was ashamed to admit it. I'd idolized Adrien since the day he handed me his umbrella. I'd looked at him with rose tinted glasses. Missing _so much._ Missing who he really was.

Well it was time to stop. From now on, I'd accept him for who he was. Who he _really_ was, cat puns and all.

My hand left the railing. "Adrien?"

"Excuse me." He backed away from the girls, and his attention fell completely on me. "What is it, Mari?"

"I-I. . ." I bit my lip. "Can we go somewhere else?" I asked, in a voice meant to carry only to him.

Worry clouded his face. "Yeah, come on." He took me by the arm and led me through the crowd. "Please, excuse us," he said to the group.

The press held out their little recorders. "I didn't get your name, Miss!"

"What about my autograph!?"

"Adrien, can you comment on your Father's new line?"

"Sorry, maybe some other time." Adrien pushed through the door, and led me from the main corridor into a smaller, dimly lit one that led away from the dining hall.

I looked over my shoulder, half expecting them to come chasing after us.

The group of girls burst from the deck, their chatter and laughter carrying easily to us. Adrien pulled me into a doorway, where the shadows wrapped over us, and concealed us as the fans passed by, their course set for the dining hall. A moment later, one of the reporters went by. None of them gave the darkened hall a second glance.

Once I was convinced we were alone, I let out a shaky breath, my hand gripped at the door frame for support.

Adrien put a hand on my shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I just. . ."

"You're not jealous, are you?"

I stiffened, until I saw the teasing look in his eyes. I shook my head, and prayed he wouldn't notice the blush that spread over my cheeks. "I just thought. . . they seem kind of crazy."

When he spoke, it was quiet, like he was confiding a secret to me. Maybe something he'd never told anyone. "I don't like it either." Adrien adjusted his tie and shot an anxious look down the corridor. "I don't like any of it, really. Modeling, I mean. . . I just do it for my Father."

"You don't have to go back out there," I told him.

He looked at me in surprise. "But what about the party?"

"You don't owe them anything, Adrien. They're not your friends. All they see is your. . . your pretty face."

 _Real smooth, Marinette._

He chuckled.

 _Great. Now he's laughing at me._

I swallowed what little pride I had left. "Look, if you get in trouble with your Father, we'll just tell him I wasn't feeling good."

His face lit up, not with a huge smile, but the tenseness vanished, his eyes warmed, like the sun peeking out on a cloudy day. "You'd do that for me?"

"Don't look so surprised."

"Okay." He glanced at me, mischief in his eyes. "So what do you want to do?"

I took a step to the center of the hall, then another, away from the deck and the crowds. I stared into the dark, then shot him a smile over my shoulder. "Let's go exploring."

* * *

So the two of us wandered through the boat. We found the kitchen, where they were still preparing fresh food for the party. We each grabbed a handful of treats from a tray sitting, waiting to be taken out. The cooks just shook their heads at us, a bit confused. Then we found stairs that led down into a pit of darkness that echoed when we spoke into it. We walked past doors with golden stars nailed to them, and stood on tiptoe to peek out portholes.

I paused in front of a door, with an ornately carved handle, and a gold plate with "backstage" engraved on it. I turned the knob and stepped into a dimly lit room filled with set pieces, antique trunks, and crates of all sizes. The room smelled of wood, dust, and vaguely of cologne.

Footsteps sounded in the hall outside the door. Adrien took my hand and pulled me behind a row of mannequins. We each hid behind one, positioning our bodies so we were hidden from sight. We watched as the door swung open and Harper and another woman came in. They gathered some makeup set out on an antique vanity, the kind with lights surrounding the mirror. Despite my poofy skirt sticking out at the sides, they didn't notice us. Soon enough they walked out, and the door swung shut.

There was a moment of quiet, and then a click as Adrien turned on a single light, a lamp missing its shade. The bare bulb cast strange shadows on the walls. The sound of the orchestra drifted through the walls. Beneath my feet I felt the steady rocking of the boat as it rolled down the Siene.

Adrien popped open one of the trunks and its hinges creaked from years of wear. "Look at this." He pulled out a cane and a top hat, that he immediately set on his head.

I went to his side, and pulled out an ivory feather boa. I slung it across my shoulders and giggled as the feathers tickled my skin.

Adrien loosened his tie, twirled his cane, and tipped his hat to me. "M'lady."

My smile froze on my face. "Careful, there. Your Chat Noir is showing."

 _Ask him._

He gave an apologetic look. "Sorry. It's just so easy to be myself around you. You don't know how nice it is to have someone that knows."

 _You're right. I don't._

He settled his hat back on his head. "I know you didn't exactly choose to know, but I still want to thank you for being so cool about the whole thing."

I pulled the boa tighter around my shoulders, working up the nerve to finally ask what I'd been wanting to ask him. "I've been meaning to ask you. . . Does anyone else know?"

He gave me a careful look, as if sizing me up before he answered. "Besides Plagg? No one else knows."

"I see." I occupied myself by digging deeper through the crate, through sequined leotards and furry costumes. "So, Ladybug doesn't know, then."

He gave a nervous laugh. "Of course not."

I glanced up at him, standing at the opposite end of the trunk. "Why not?"

For just a split second, a look of panic crossed his face. "I. . . I don't know."

"You could have asked for her help, right? But you came to me."

"Yeah." He shifted uncomfortably. "I guess."

 _Careful, Marinette. You don't want to give away too much._

"Why?"

"Because I trust you," he said. "I trusted you to keep my secret."

My eyes stayed on the contents of the box. "And you don't trust Ladybug?"

"Of course I do!" He put both hands on the sides of the trunk and leaned forward, closer to me. "Marinette, what's this all about?"

I dropped a wad of tulle back into the box. "I just wanted to know, that's all," I said, defensiveness bleeding through my voice.

"Ladybug is my _partner._ Of course I trust her. I trust her with my life, let alone my secret identity."

I stood there, stunned by the fierceness in his voice, by the painful honesty in his eyes. Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them away. _He shouldn't know what it means to me to hear him say that,_ I told myself. _He doesn't know who I am._

"Since the beginning," Adrien said, his voice much softer now, "I've wanted to know. Wanted her to know. . . But Ladybug says we should keep our secret identities just that. A secret." He walked a few paces, turned so his back was to me. "Of course, I wanted to tell her. I would have asked for her help, but her miraculous ran out of time."

"She would have had to sacrifice her secret to help you."

"I couldn't do it." He turned to face me, a smile playing on his lips. "Of course, you could take into account I was half delirious and couldn't stand on my own two feet."

I smiled at that.

"Mari?"

I fiddled with my dress, afraid of what he might say next. "Yes?"

". . . Are you angry with me?"

I hid a giggle behind my hand. "It's pretty hard to be mad at you when you're wearing that hat."

He didn't look quite convinced. "You sure?"

"Yes." I smiled at him. "I'm sure."

He tipped the hat so it sat crooked, and I laughed even harder. "Look," he said. "There's a bean bag."

I turned to see. It wasn't _just_ a bean bag, it was a _gigantic_ bean bag. Big enough for two, maybe even three people. I glanced back at Adrien, and saw that mischievous look flicker in his eyes. At the same moment, we burst forward, racing across the room. We both jumped into the beanbag and landed with a crash. The beanbag puffed up around us as we slowly sank into it.

"Beat you," I said, between fits of laughter.

He propped himself up with an elbow. "I think it was a tie."

I grinned. "Sure you do."

We lay there on our backs, staring up at the rigging for the stage. The beanbag smelled a bit dusty, but it was so comfortable. A peaceful quiet fell over us. I waited to see if he would say anything, but he just gazed up, a thoughtful expression on his face.

There were still so many questions I wanted to ask him. I'd never gotten the chance to just be with Chat Noir, to talk to him, to get to know him. I wanted to know if he had any theories about Hawkmoth's motivation. I wanted to know more about his kwami, if Plagg was as sweet and helpful as Tiki. I wanted to thank him for protecting Paris. I wanted to thank him for being my partner.

 _Then tell him._

No.

 _Tell. Him._

Maybe I should. He deserved to know. It felt wrong to keep it a secret from him now.

 _But he likes Ladybug. What will he do if he finds out Ladybug is me?_

I glanced over at him, hat resting on his chest, his hair a ruffled mess. If I listened, I could hear the steadiness of his breathing. I felt it calm me, lull me into a peaceful state. . .

* * *

I startled awake, with the warmth of someone next to me, with eerie shadows stretched across the walls around me, and something soft tickling my neck. I tensed, until slowly, I came to an understanding of where I was. That feeling around my neck was only the feather boa I found in the box of costumes. The shadows were only props and set pieces. And the person curled up beside me was only Adrien.

That last one took a moment to sink in.

I shot up, with such force I nearly took out a mannequin. I barely caught it before it hit the floor, and I held my breath in the quiet. The immense quiet.

The music had stopped. I could no longer hear the murmur of people.

Slowly, I righted the mannequin then scrabbled for my purse and pulled out my phone.

It was 12:03.

 _Uh oh._

I knelt down to shake Adrien awake, but paused when I noticed the little puddle of drool in the corner of his mouth. It brought a wicked smile to my face. I contemplated taking a picture, but the idea quickly dispelled at the sound of a voice, one I recognized as Nathalie's.

"Adrien!" She sounded irritated, if a bit frantic. "Adrien, where are you?"

"Adrien," I said, in a sharp whisper. I patted his shoulder, but that did little to stir him. So I grabbed him by the arms and pulled him out of the bean bag to his feet.

His eyes half opened and he looked around in confusion. "Marinette?"

There was a clack of heels and the stage's curtain parted. Nathalie stepped backstage, and stopped short when she saw us. "There you are!"

Adrien startled wide awake, and I let go of him, satisfied he could stand on his own. "What time is it?"

"Midnight," I supplied.

Nathalie gave me a dry look. "I've been trying to find you for nearly twenty minutes." She gave us both a look of inspection and her eyes narrowed. "What on earth have you been doing?"

"Nothing, Nathalie," Adrien said quickly, his voice sleep hazed.

 _Yeah. Real convincing._

"I was uh, overwhelmed by the crowd," I said. "We were both so worn out I guess we. . . fell asleep." I bit my lip.

 _Yup. We convinced her alright._

"Where's Father?" Adrien asked.

Nathalie sighed. "He's already left, Adrien. Everyone has."

"Right."

There was a beat of silence, the tension thick around us. Or maybe it was just all the dust in here.

"Well." Nathalie held the curtain aside. "Come on."

We walked through the boat, now void of anyone but staff cleaning up, onto the deck, the pier, and finally stepped onto solid ground. I felt a bit sick. The ground seemed to sway under me, but I knew it was because my legs had grown used to the rolling of the Siene. And I recalled all those rich treats I'd eaten. Combined with the agitation from waking up in a strange place. A cold breeze wrapped around me and crept up me skirt. I hugged my arms to myself, and took a deep breath, feeling a bit faint. It was a long few minutes as we stood in silence, waiting for the car to pull around.

"There's something in your hair," Adrien said, and leaned in to pick whatever it was from my curls.

The updo Harper had done had come undone, half of it spilling onto my shoulder. I held my breath as his fingers fumbled in my hair, accidentally brushed my ear, then the side of my face. Adrien smiled and held up one of the feathers from the boa up in triumph.

"Thanks," I managed.

At least I didn't feel so cold anymore.

The car pulled up to the curb and Adrien held the door for me. I struggled again to slide into the seat without twisting my skirt, but finally managed. It was a quiet drive. Every headlight and lamppost that went by seemed too bright. The interior of the car seemed too warm. It was hard not to think about how nice he smelled.

I wondered if some of it would stay on my clothes, or my hair. I'd spent the entire evening at his side, even so far as to fall asleep beside him.

The fact Nathalie thought. . . _something_ might have happened, made my face flush. More than once, I caught her looking at us through the rear view mirror, a look of disapproval on obvious display.

I sighed, and lay my head against the car door. _How bad is this? Is it not that big of a deal, and Nathalie is just grumpy because we messed up her schedule?_ I ran a finger along the seam of the car seat. _Did I get Adrien in big trouble with his Father?_

I didn't ask. I was too frightened.

The car finally pulled up in front of the bakery. It had long since closed for the day, but a single light shined from the second floor. My parents had waited up for me.

Adrien gave me a sleepy smile, sweet enough to make my heart flutter. "I'll see you tomorrow at school?"

I nodded, unable to contain my own smile. "Yeah." I swung the car door open, and began to step out, then froze. I turned back and grinned. "Thank you again. I had a lot of fun."

His eyes lit up. "I'm glad."

I slid out onto the sidewalk and closed the car door. Adrien waved, and I waved back. Then I hurried inside the door at the side of the bakery that led into my house.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, I paused to take a deep breath. Either my parents would be angry, worried, or just happy I had a good time. _Guess I'll find out soon enough._

But I lingered a moment longer, to loose what little of my hair was still pinned up. I ran a hand through it, before bringing it to my nose, and breathed in, slow and deep.

I giggled, a stupid smile on my face, and felt brave enough to murmur in the quiet hall. "Silly kitty."

* * *

Alya hovered over my shoulder as I gathered my things from my locker. "Spill it, Marinette."

I smiled to myself. "There's nothing to spill."

"Nothing?" She crossed her arms. "Girl, smiles like that don't come from nowhere."

I hefted my backpack onto my shoulders and closed my locker. "I already told you I had a good time. What else do you want me to say?"

"Did you meet any celebrities?" she asked.

"Hm," I hummed thoughtfully. "Well I met Adrien's Father. He counts, right? I mean he's pretty famous."

"You didn't meet anyone else? Didn't Adrien introduce you to people?"

"We might have. . . kind of sneaked away from the party after the show."

"You did what!?" Her jaw dropped. "Marinette-"

"It wasn't like _that_ , Alya."

She followed me into the gym, right at my heels. "Then what was it like. Give me _something."_

Rose waved from the balcony, and rushed to meet us at the top of the stairs. "Oh, Marinette!" She gave me a beaming look, blue eyes shining. "I saw your picture in the news. You looked absolutely stunning. What was it like?"

"Well. . ."

"Oh, please, tell me," she said, leaning closer in anticipation.

"There was music, and lights, and fancy hors d'oeuvres," I said.

"Oh, that sounds amazing!" Rose said. "And you and Adrien looked so adorable together-"

"Well, we aren't together, together," I quickly said.

"Isn't it hilarious?" Adrien said.

I jumped at the sound of his voice. I hadn't seen him sneak up behind me. _Is he really going to keep doing that?_ "What's hilarious?" I asked.

"After last night, all of Paris thinks you're my girlfriend."

Alya snorted, and elbowed me in the side. "Isn't that a crazy idea."

 _Shut. Up._

"What?" I squeaked.

Adrien smiled, a bit apologetic. "Don't worry, the same thing happened when Chloe and I went to one of her dad's banquets together. It'll blow over soon." He glanced at Rose, who was giving him a starry eyed look. "Hey, Rose."

She giggled. "Good morning!"

We all headed toward science class, Adrien falling into step beside me, a spring in his step. He seemed happy.

"How did your doctor's appointment go?" I asked.

"It went good. He said I could go ahead with my fencing lesson today," Adrien said.

"That's great," I said, a bit distracted by how everyone seemed to be staring at us.

We'd already drifted several paces behind Alya and Rose, but he slowed his steps a fraction more, and gave me a concerned look. "Are you still freaked out about the press thing? I know you're not used to getting this much attention."

"I-I'll be alright," I said, and raised my chin a bit higher, just to show it.

"You'll see, soon enough they'll all forget about it," he said, as we passed through the doorway into class.

The moment I settled into my seat, a thought occurred to me. I leaned forward. "Psst, Adrien," I whispered.

He swiveled in his chair, and rolled it across the tile floor, so he sat directly across from me. He rested his arms on my desk and leaned closer. "Yeah?"

I could feel Alya's eyes burning into me.

I cleared my throat. "I uh. . . about last night. Was your father angry?"

His eyes clouded for a moment, and I knew he'd been worrying about it too. "If he is, he hasn't said anything to me yet."

"Alright, class," Ms. Mendeleiev said. Her eyes zeroed in on Adrien. "Agreste, eyes on me, please."

Adrien wheeled his chair around and folded his hands on top of his desk. "Yes, Ma'am."

The class giggled, and I let my bangs fall over my eyes.

 _'All of Paris thinks you're my girlfriend.'_ I guess maybe all of Paris included my class, too.

"Before we get into our lesson," Ms. Mendeleiev began, "I'll be assigning you into groups of three for your class project about the animal kingdom. You can decide between yourselves what animal you choose."

Rose raised her hand. "Ms. Mendeleiev, will we be allowed to do our presentation on unicorns?"

". . . No, Rose." She adjusted her glasses. "Any other. . . questions?"

The class was silent.

"Alright. Sabrina, Max, and Rose." She wrote out their names on the blackboard that stretched across the front of the room. "Marinette, Adrien-"

I swear I felt the eyes of the entire class fall on us.

"-And Chloe. You'll be working together this time."

I froze.

 _And Chloe?_

Ms. Mendeleiev finished assigning the groups, and set down her chalk. "Your presentation will be due next week on Wednesday."

* * *

After the bell rang, Chloe paused by our desks, arms crossed over her designer shirt. "Hey, Adrien." Her eyes roved to me. "Marinette."

My lips pursed. "Chloe."

"I saw your picture from the fashion show," she said, her eyes taking me in. "That dress was terribly ugly-"

My fists clenched beneath my desk.

"-But you managed to make it work."

"Thank. . . you?"

Adrien glanced back and forth at us. "So I guess we should get together to work on our project. Do you two want to come over to my place after school?"

 _Good thinking, Adrien. Neutral ground._

"Sounds good to me," Chloe said.

"Works for me too," I said.

Chloe's icy gaze lingered on me for a moment, before she flashed a smile at Adrien. "See you later."

I gritted my teeth as I watched her go. "She's up to something."

Adrien laughed, then gave me a look. "I won't have to referee for you two, will I?"

My shoulders drooped. "No. I'm sorry. I'll do my best to behave."

He slipped his book bag over his shoulder. "If you want, you can ride home with me so you don't have to walk all that way."

I gave him a mischievous smile. "Will you carry my books for me too, cat charming?"

He shook his head, and chuckled. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes." A grin spread over my face. "Thank you, Adrien."

"I have fencing class after last period, so you can meet me in the gym, alright?"

I nodded, and a part of me melted, knowing if I could go back and tell my past self someday I'd feel comfortable being around him, able to speak coherently to him, I wouldn't have believed myself.

But here I was.

* * *

After the final bell sounded, I stopped by the library to return a book and pick up the next in the series I was reading. It had a few too many fairies and goblins for my liking, but Alya had made me promise to read them. I slipped it into my bag, the extra weight pulling at my tired shoulders.

 _The things I do for that girl._

I went down into the gym and took a seat on one of the benches. I looked out at the group of young fencers. Their teacher, Mr. D'Argencourt paced back and forth, analyzing his students.

I lay out my book in my lap with the intention of starting it, but my eyes flicked up. Even though everyone wore the same white uniform, I spotted Adrien in an instant. He was taller than most of the boys, so that helped, but it was the way he moved that caught my attention.

 _So that's how Chat Noir got so good with his batons._

There was a certain confidence in his steps, a precision with each movement of his sabre. He quickly overtook his sparring partner and the sound of their sabres as they crashed together rang through the courtyard.

Mr. D'Argencourt drew close, and applauded him. "Well, done, Monsiour Agreste."

I watched as this time Adrien had a bout with his teacher. At first it seemed Adrien had the upper hand, but Mr. D'Argencourt feigned left and caught Adrien's shoulder. He stumbled and his back hit the mat under him. Mr. D'Argencourt held the tip of his sabre to Adrien's chest, pinning him there.

I caught my breath in surprise, more engaged in watching the spectacle than I'd realized.

The other students, who had gathered round to watch, applauded.

"Shall this be a reminder, young Agreste. Lest we become too brash," Mr. D'Argencourt said.

Adrien picked himself off the ground and reached out to shake his teacher's hand. "Yes, Sir."

"Now, my stalwart students," Mr. D'Argencourt said. "You are hereby dismissed. Well done, everyone."

Adrien turned, and waved when he saw me. I waved back, and he came across the court to greet me. "Hey, Marinette."

"Hi," I said, and shifted the book in my lap, still open on the first page of the prologue.

He pulled off his fencing mask and a mess of blond hair tumbled out. He smiled, cheeks warm from exertion, and the smell of his cologne mingled with locker room smell. "I'm just going to grab a quick shower, alright?"

 _Gosh, he looks cute._

And I felt lucky because this was the Adrien Agreste his fans didn't get to see. This wasn't the boy on the cover of dozens of magazines. This was the real him.

"Okay," I managed, if a bit dreamily.

As I waited, I had a few minutes of quiet to dig into my book. I'd nearly finished chapter one when he came back, hair damp, bag slung over his shoulder.

I began gathering up my things, when he held out a hand, and bowed. "Your books, _m_ _a chérie?"_

I glanced at the other students going by. "Adrien, quit. People will think you're _really_ my boyfriend."

What I didn't tell him, was that this whole thing was starting to drive me crazy. I had to remind myself we weren't dating. With how he went on and on about how much he admired Ladybug. With how kind and thoughtful he always was to me. The teasing. That mischievous look he'd give me.

I'd promised myself I'd stop idolizing him, but I had months and months of habit to break. And he wasn't exactly making it easy.

Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of learning Adrien was Chat Noir. But I felt even more, like a weight in my heart, that nothing could have prepared me for the consequences.

* * *

The silence was heavy, save the clock ticking from the corner of the room. The table stretched across the massive marbled room. I couldn't imagine anyone needing a dining room this large. And yet, it still didn't feel big enough. For sitting across from me, sat the one and only Chloe Burgeious.

I could feel the ice between us, like a physical barrier or a wall. Every word we'd said so far had been directed at Adrien, not to each other.

And he'd said he didn't want to be a mediator for us.

 _Grow up, Marinette. You promised him you'd be civil._

"So. . ." Adrien tapped a pen against the cover of his science book. "What are your favorite animals?"

I gave him a small smile. "I'm rather fond of cats."

I was rewarded with a smirk and a sly look. I could barely contain the butterflies. And the fact that the two of us could share an inside joke like that? I felt like the embodiment of the heart eyes emoji.

"Cats?" Chloe gave me a condescending look. "Cats are boring. Why would you want to do our project about _cats?"_

I rolled my eyes. "It was just a suggestion, Chloe. We don't have to."

"Shame," Adrien said. "Seeing as we have our very own cat fight to observe-"

I kicked his foot beneath the table.

"OW."

Chloe gave both of us a death glare.

Adrien cleared his throat. "What animal would you choose?"

Chloe stuck out her bottom lip, and looked around the room, like she was searching for inspiration. "Hm. We could do it about bees."

"Why does that not surprise me." Then I couldn't help but mutter _"Queen Bee"_ under my breath.

This time Adrien was the one to nudge my foot.

Chloe shot me a look, even though I don't think she'd heard what I said. "Bees are very hard working, and loyal, and will sacrifice themselves to protect their hive. They're certainly more interesting than cats. You have a problem with bees, Dupain Cheng?"

I opened my mouth to say something terribly witty, but I saw Adrien watching me closely. I let out a puff of air. "No. . ."

"Bees it is," Adrien said. "Marinette, did you bring your sketchbook?"

I brightened a bit. "Of course."

"I think it would be cool if we had some visual aids to go along with our presentation."

Chloe crossed her arms.

Adrien let out a sigh. "And Chloe, would you like to do the bulk of the talking, er, presenting?"

She glanced at her nails, as if she needed to consider it. As if there were a possibility she'd say no. "Maybe we should split it between us. That would be fair, right?"

 _Wait, what?_

"Really, Chloe?" I looked at her strangely. Surely this couldn't really be Chloe Burgeious. Right?

"I think that's a great idea." He gave me one of those looks, like he knew something I didn't and he loved it. "Thanks, Chloe."

I pulled out my sketchbook, a bit dazed. _What is going on here?_ I dumped some supplies onto the table and picked out a soft lead pencil. I turned my attention to getting some quick thumbnail sketches down and was so concentrated on my work I didn't notice the door open.

"Hello, Nathalie," Adrien said.

I glanced up, and there she was, her expression as blank as ever. But she looked a little extra tired. Her shoulders not quite as straight, her hair a little less perfect.

"We're just working on a class project," he went on.

She sighed. "Adrien, your Father is coming in from a long flight, and he's had some important meetings today. He's very tired, and I don't think he would appreciate coming home to a house full of children."

"We'll be quiet," he said.

Nathalie glanced at me, a bit of recognition passing across her face. Then she turned back to Adrien. "Maybe your classmates should leave."

"But Nathalie-"

"It's okay, Adrien," I said. "We can work on the project later."

"Are you sure?"

I closed my sketchbook, then gave him a smile. "I'm sure. We wouldn't want to disturb your Father. Right Chloe?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Of course not."

Adrien leaned closer to help me gather markers and pencils. "I'll have my driver take you home."

"There's no need," Chloe cut in. "I'll be going through that area anyway. She can ride with me."

My eyes widened. _Don't do this to me,_ I mouthed to him.

He just gave me one of his sparkly model smiles. "Isn't that nice of Chloe?"

My hands clenched around the fistful of markers he'd handed me. "Yes, so. . . nice."

Satisfied, Nathalie turned and left.

I finished replacing all my things into my backpack, and stood. _How am I going to make it through a car ride with Chloe?_ The only reason I'd made it this far, was because of Adrien.

I shot him another dark look. One I hoped conveyed to him the depths of which he should be feeling regret and fear. I'd find a way to get him back for this.

He followed us into the hall, and placed a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "Good luck."

 _He's telling_ her _good luck? What about me?_

"Thanks, Adrikins," Chloe said. "See you Monday."

* * *

It was silent as we stood outside the Agreste's mansion, waiting for Chloe's driver to come around and pick us up. Once we were inside her limo, settled into our lush leather seats, I folded my hands in my lap and stared down at my shoes, resigned not to give in.

She seemed pretty occupied by her phone, anyway. Maybe I'd get through this without having to speak to her.

 _Why'd she even offer to take me home?_

Chloe cleared her throat.

 _Here it comes._

"This isn't easy for me," she said.

I didn't raise my head, but my eyes moved to watch her as she fidgeted with the end of her sleeve. "What, being around me?"

She gave me a confused look. "What? No. I'm talking about apologizing."

My head jerked up. "Apologizing? _You?"_

Chloe fixed me with a glare. "Don't make this harder than it already is!" She took a deep breath, and when she spoke she sounded much calmer. "I've already apologized to most of the class, but I kept putting you off, because I was afraid. I've been so awful to you, Marinette. Especially since I started feeling jealous about you and Adrien-"

"Wait, what?"

"Don't interrupt me," she said. "The only reason I'd expect you to forgive me is because you're such a goodie goodie, because I've said some terrible things to you. I understand if you never want to speak to me again, but just know, I am trying to be a better person now."

I sat, stunned. "I. . . I'm not sure what to say."

Chloe crossed her arms and angled herself toward the window. "Then don't say anything."

My eyes narrowed. "Is this a joke?"

Her lips tightened. "Of course not."

"Did Adrien put you up to this?"

"He," she paused, "might be one of the reasons I'm saying this. But he didn't _make_ me."

"This was all a set up!" I shook my head. "That boy-"

"I may have been jealous in the past," Chloe interrupted. "But I'm happy for you. Adrien. . . He's a really sweet guy." She gave me a careful look. "I hope you know that."

"What? No," I said. "I mean, I know, but we're not actually a couple. I wish people would stop assuming we're dating."

Chloe just stared at me. Then she burst out laughing. "You're joking." She stopped laughing. "You're not joking."

I felt tears in my eyes, and then I felt anger, because Chloe was the _last_ person I wanted to be talking to about my heart troubles. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

She gave me a sly look, some of that Chloe spark showing through. "Don't give up hope. I've seen the way he looks at you. He really likes you, even if it's just as a friend."

I didn't answer, just frowned down at my shoes.

"Believe me, I would know. I've known him since we were five." She finally seemed to realize I wasn't going to say anything. So she pulled her compact from her bag and applied a fresh coat of lip gloss. After a stretch of quiet, she looked at me again. "Did he ever tell you how he used to stutter when he was younger?"

I gave in, and looked up. "I didn't know that."

"He would get super anxious around big crowds, and could barely get a word out." Chloe cast a warm look out the window, like she was remembering something, something that brought a smile to her face. "But of course, I could talk enough for the two of us."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that.

Chloe gave me a satisfied look, like she'd wanted to make me laugh. She was different now. I could see it in her eyes, in her smile.

Begrudgingly, I made a mental note not to forget to thank Adrien next time I saw him.


	5. Act One: V

**Greetings, dear reader! I just wanted to thank each and every one of you for taking the time to read my story, to leave me such sweet reviews. I'm grateful for each and every one of you. Have a lovely day, darling!**

* * *

I don't think my phone had stopped buzzing since she walked out the door. I'd moved to my room, and was attempting to do homework, but Chloe was making that a bit difficult.

 _I can't do this, Adrien. She hates me too much. It'll just be embarrassing for both of us._

 _Just do it,_ I replied. _Get off your phone and tell her._

I'd been amazed by the change I saw in Chloe. She was still a work in progress, but she was growing. She'd already apologized to every single person in our class. All but one.

I glanced at my phone. Silence. I gave it a satisfied smile, and moved back to my homework.

But then my mind drifted. Chloe had told me all about how she apologized to her dad, too. Now they spent more time together. They actually had fun together, she'd said.

I heard a car pull up the drive and stop in front of the house.

My grip tightened on my pen. _Maybe I could make a change, too,_ I thought. _Maybe I could make an effort to be nicer to Father._

"It won't work," I said aloud.

Plagg had been napping on top of my bag, at the end of my desk, but he lifted his head. "That's the kind kind of pessimism I like to hear. I'm glad you're sprinkling in a little variety. You're always so optimistic all the time."

I frowned at him. "Not when it comes to my Father."

My phone buzzed.

 _Chloe: Thank you._

I grinned.

 _I'm proud of you._

There was a knock at my door, and the smile disappeared. "Plagg, hide," I whispered. I waited just long enough for him to nestle into the pocket inside my shirt, then I swiveled my chair to face the door. "Come in."

Nathalie entered the doorway. "Your Father would like to see you, Adrien."

"Okay." I tried not to sound nervous. "Now?"

"Yes, right away."

* * *

I could often tell what mood my Father was in, based on the state of his office. And let me just say, a messy office is never a good sign. There were papers, photographs of clothing, and fabric samples scattered across his desk. Lengths of velvet draped over the shoulders of a mannequin, and some lay in a pile on the floor. He was standing, too.

 _This isn't good._

He was unpacking even more things from his briefcase, heaping them on top of what was already there. He looked cross, but of course, he always does.

"Father?" I said, quietly. I didn't want to say anything, but he didn't seem to notice I was standing right there. I gathered the courage to step in, and close the door behind me. Though I very much wanted to be on the other side of it.

Father barely glanced up. "There you are."

I felt the storm coming. I'd been trying not to worry about it all day. The inevitable. That he would tell me just how much he disapproved of my behavior during his precious fashion show.

 _Well I don't regret a single moment._

"You wanted to speak to me?" I asked.

"Yes." He sighed. "I've had a long day, Adrien. So I'll make this short."

I braced myself.

"Your conduct last night was unacceptable."

I took a step forward. "Marinette felt anxious around the crowds, so we went out to the deck for some fresh air."

The hawk like look in his eyes sharpened. "So you place the blame for your behavior on her?"

"No," I said quickly. "I don't see what we did wrong. I was only taking care of my guest."

"Hm." His attention went back to his briefcase. "There were some very important people I wanted to introduce you to."

"I apologize, Father."

He watched me from the corner of his eye. "Perhaps, you shouldn't be spending so much time with that girl."

"Seriously?" I frowned. "Marinette is my friend."

"I would call her a distraction. You need to get your head on right, son. The fashion industry is very demanding. You have to eliminate the clutter in your life," he said, and dropped a folder straight into the bin.

My jaw tightened. _So that's it. I'm a distraction? Is that why he's extracted himself from my life? Is that really what he sees when he looks at me?_

"And you must consider the possibility she's only using you for your popularity-"

"Don't say that," I interrupted, my voice low.

"Adrien, there's something you need to realize. People are going to use you in life, and you need to learn to recognize when you're being taken advantage of-"

"Marinette was _not_ using me," I said, my volume rising. "It was _my_ idea to invite her to the show."

"Is that so?"

"I can tell when someone is using me for their personal gain, _Father."_

We both stilled. I'm not sure which of us was more surprised by the venom in my voice.

". . . Adrien."

I started for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," I said, my knuckles white around the knob.

"I don't think so," he said. "Go to your room."

I tried to hide the hurt in my voice. "You're. . . grounding me?"

"Your room. Now, Adrien."

I felt myself wilt, the fight draining right from me. "Yes, Sir."

I hurried through the hall, up the stairs. I slammed the door to my room and immediately felt shame burn my cheeks. I'd never spoken to him that way before. It made me sick to my stomach.

Plagg slipped from the inner pocket of my shirt. "Wow. You sure told him."

I turned my back to him. "Not in the mood, Plagg."

I began to pace. A restlessness settled over me, and a need to get out of this house ate at me.

I looked at the door and my heart fell. If Nathalie caught me sneaking out, or someone came and found my room empty. . .

 _No one will see me slip away. And odds are no one will notice me missing till supper time._

I gave Plagg a calculating look. "We're leaving."

"C'mon, don't I get _one_ day off? I'm tired, Adrien," he said pitifully.

I gave him a small smile. "Plagg, _claws out!"_

* * *

Once I'd slipped through the window, made it past the gates, I felt like I could finally breathe again. For a while I wondered the streets, no destination in mind. Past cafes, parks and streets filled with quiet homes.

It was nice, just concentrating on my baton, on leaping from building to building. The wind and sky blending around me.

I'm not sure what pulled me that direction, but soon enough I found myself stopping on a roof, directly across from the Boulangerie Patisserie.

Perhaps I was so ashamed of the mess I was, I couldn't bare looking her parents in the eye. The thought of putting on the persona of perfection my Father had trained me to act rarely felt as big of a lie as it did in that moment.

So my feet moved and I landed with much more grace than I had the last time I was here. Here on her balcony. Here where I'd shown someone for the first time, who I really was behind this mask.

It all felt so long ago, almost like it had been a dream.

I took care not to disturb any of her plants, and lowered to a crouch by the trap door. I rapped lightly against the wood, then waited.

 _Maybe she's downstairs in the bakery? Maybe she's not home at all. That'd be just my luck._

My heart fell, but I lingered a moment longer, willing her to appear. But that didn't seem to work. I'd made up my mind to go, when my ears picked up the sound of footsteps, then the door began to swing open. And there I was, face to face with her.

Marinette took in a quick breath of surprise, but quickly recovered. She gave me a look of inspection. "What are _you_ doing here?"

My tail flicked. "Is now a bad time?"

She let the trap door rest against the floor, and settled on the ground beside me, letting her feet dangle into her room. She folded her hands in her lap, and gave me a sideways glance. "No, I kinda wanted to see you, actually."

"Oh really?" I smirked. "And why's that?"

Marinette threw her arms around me, pulled me in close for a hug. I was unsteady for a moment, till I found my balance, then I stilled, a little in shock.

She squeezed me even tighter before finally letting go. "Thank you."

I blinked, unable to respond. A lump grew in my throat, and I wanted to thank _her._ Maybe a hug was exactly what I'd needed.

"I know you had more than a little to do with what happened with Chloe. . ." She frowned, concern in her voice. "Hey, are you okay?"

I shook my head. "I just had a fight with my Father. I. . . needed to get away."

"Do you. . . want to talk about it?"

I was silent.

"Alright." She took in a deep breath. "You just wanna hang out? We could play some Mecha Strike, or watch a movie."

I stared at my feet, unable to speak. I wanted to tell her what an awesome friend she was. I almost felt I didn't deserve her kindness. I felt dangerous, I felt damaged. And she was so caring, so much light in her eyes. "Do you really want a stray like me hanging around?" I asked, my voice low.

"Here." She got to her feet. "I know exactly what we should do." Then she started down the stairs. "Are you coming?"

I slowly raised my head, then nodded. I followed her, feeling very much like a shadow slipping through her room.

Marinette bent over to grab an armful of laundry off the floor. "Sorry my room's a disaster," she said, and crammed the laundry into a drawer.

Among more normal things, like laundry, shoes, and cosmetics, her room was littered with crafty things like markers, fabric, even some glitter she'd spilt on the floor. Sketches and magazine clipping covered her walls. I'd noticed the pictures of myself before, but now they were gone. Replaced with photographs of Ladybug and me that the press had taken.

Marinette cleared her throat. "Ahem. You might want to uh. . . You know."

I looked down at my claws, and my suit. "Right."

"Wouldn't want my parents to come up and find Chat Noir in my room," she said, and smiled.

"Plagg," I said, "claws in."

With a flash of green, I shed the suit. Plagg spiraled toward a soft looking pile of faux fur on the ground. "If you need me, I'll be sleeping," he said.

Marinette watched my kwami intently, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You behave now, little kitty."

Then Plagg did what I least expected him to do. He lifted his head, and placed a paw over his heart (if he had one, anyway). "On my honour, princess."

Marinette giggled. "I see where some of Chat Noir's flattery comes from."

I leaned in a bit, my voice low so Plagg wouldn't hear. "I think he likes you."

Something soft, almost like wonder, entered her eyes when she looked at me. "Really?"

I nodded. "I promise, he's not that polite to me."

She laughed again, the sound sweeter than music. "Follow me."

So I followed her down the stairs to her family's living area. I stopped beside the end of the couch, feeling a bit out of place. She gave me a silent smile and slipped past me. I watched, something strange caught in my stomach as she moved through the kitchen.

I loved how colorful their house was. The pink, the blue, the green of plants. Even how comfortable everything was. My house was cold, marble and tile, white and black. Nothing like this. This was a home.

Marinette opened a cabinet and pulled out a spiral bound recipe book, thicker than any textbook I'd ever seen.

"That's some recipe book," I said, and drifted closer, until I stood on the opposite side of the counter from her. "You really use all those?"

Marinette stroked the front of the book. "Oh, yes. They're our family recipes. It belonged to Papa's mother, and she passed it down to him. Someday it will be mine, and I'll get to teach these recipes to my children," she said, her voice soft.

I closed my eyes, almost melting into the dream along with her. I wanted my family to be like that. I mean, I didn't have something like a book of recipes to pass to my children, but I knew one thing. I'd spend time with them, I would love on them. I would do all the things I wish I'd got to do with my parents that I never could. "That's. . . really sweet, Mari."

She brushed at her eyes. "Yeah, well. . ." She cleared her throat, and began to thumb through the pages. "Have any requests?"

"How about chocolate chip cookies?"

A troubled expression crossed her face. "Oh."

"Is that alright?"

She lay the book out on the counter between us. "No, no. It's fine. It's just a little basic, I guess."

"Classic," I corrected.

Her smile came back, and she flipped through the pages until she came to a recipe, stained from years of ingredients spilling over it. "Here we go. Chocolate chip. A _classic,"_ she added, and smoothed down the page.

Marinette set to gathering ingredients, as I only watched, feeling a bit useless. She pulled out a footstool so she could reach into the higher cabinets, and brought out a massive bag of flour. She tipped dangerously, trying to compensate with the burden.

I moved around the counter and went to her side. "Here, let me."

She lowered the bag into my arms and gave me a shy smile. "Thanks, Adrien."

It was funny because even though she stood on a stepping stool, we were about the same height now. I couldn't help but grin at her.

She paused, giving me an odd look. "What?"

I shifted the sack of flour in my arms, and managed an innocent smile. "Oh, nothing."

She pointed to another cabinet. "Do you mind getting the mixing bowl from there?"

I set the flour on the counter, and reached up for the bowl, a thick creamy ceramic one. "This one?"

She nodded. "Yes, that's the one." She popped open the fridge and gathered a carton of eggs and milk, balancing both in her arms. Silverware clattered around in the drawer as she searched for the correct measuring tools. Soon enough, the ingredients and tools were all laid out on the counter.

"Here," Marinette said, and opened the carton of eggs. "We only need two."

She placed one in my hand. My fingers closed around it, afraid that I might drop it. I watched closely as she tapped it against the edge of the bowl, her hand light, the movement precise from years of practice I didn't have. I tried to do likewise, but it didn't even crack the surface.

She laughed. "You can hit them harder than that, Adrien."

So I did, and the perfect surface of the egg split open, but not completely. I held it over the bowl and tried to pry it open the rest of the way. The pressure of my thumbs made the egg explode, and it went flying everywhere- on the counter, on my shirt, on Mari's arm.

I gave her a sheepish look. "Whoops."

She threw her head back, a snort and a laugh escaping. She covered her mouth with her clean hand to hide her smile.

I dropped what was left of the egg into the bowl. It didn't matter, because I'd already gotten plenty of shell into it. "I didn't mean to make a mess."

Mari went over and turned on the tap so she could wash off her arm. "This? This is nothing. Remember, _I_ live here. If Mama were in here, she'd tell you a whole mountain of stories about the messes I've managed to make."

I came to her side and held out my hands, feeling the egg drying stiff on my skin. "I don't know much about baking."

She glanced up from scrubbing her arm with soap, her head tilted. "We can fix that. You came to the right place to learn."

"Hey. . ." I stared into the sink, the only sound the running water. It was too much. All of the feelings and thoughts inside me. It made me dizzy, my chest tight. I felt a lump grow in my throat as she waited for me to go on, but I pushed past it. "Thanks for this. It. . . means more than you might think," I said, and stopped myself because my voice was beginning to shake.

My cheeks heated. I didn't like this, showing emotions to other people. Remember, I lived in a house with Nathalie and my Father. I'd been raised to be quiet, to be polite, to smile for the cameras.

Marinette was still, like she was mesmerized by the tap. She finally tipped her face up at me, the sweetest smile on her face, her eyes misty. Neither of us said anything, only stood there, letting the water run and the egg dry on us.

I felt a hesitant touch on my arm as she pulled me closer to the sink, and guided my hand under the stream of water. She cleared her throat and forced a motherly tone. "Look at you, you're a mess. After we're done with the cookies, I'll see if I can find a clean shirt for you to change into."

"Marinette?" Her mother stepped through the door leading to the bakery. "I thought you were studying at Adrien's house."

We both froze.

"What are you two doing?"

Marinette yanked her hands away from me, as if she'd been burned. I turned my attention to washing up, like lathering soap on my hands took a lot of concentration.

"I uh, we uh," Marinette stammered.

"We were," I said, and gave Mrs. Cheng one of my most charming (and innocent) smiles. "But we needed some of Marinette's art supplies for the project, so we came here."

"Hm." She gave first me, then her daughter a thoughtful look. "You should have told me you two were up here. I could have made you something to eat."

"Well, we're making cookies, Mama," Marinette replied.

Mrs. Cheng came into the kitchen, inspecting the egg splattered on the counter, and the shell in the bowl of yokes. "Hm. Eggshell cookies. Delicious."

"We're trying to make chocolate chip," I offered.

Her smile brightened. "Mmm! Marinette's favorite."

I spun toward Marinette in surprise. "I didn't know they were your favorite. What happened to basic?"

She gave me a sly smile. "Ah, ah. Classic, remember?"

I rolled my eyes, and finally turned off the tap, then dried my hands on the pink spotted towel laying out.

"You'll stay for supper, won't you?" Mrs. Cheng asked.

I froze, reality hitting me. I was already pushing things by coming here in the first place. I knew I should get back before anyone found out I was gone. Assuming they hadn't already.

But the warmth of Marinette's family, a real, loving family, and the thought of sitting down and eating a meal together. . . I didn't have the heart to say no. In fact, I wanted to stay desperately. If only to forget what it was like at my house for an hour or two.

I glanced between Marinette and her mother, who were both waiting for me to say something.

"I would love to stay for supper," I said, finally finding the words. "If it isn't too much trouble."

Mrs. Cheng clasped her hands together. "It's no trouble at all. We're glad you can stay, right, Marinette?"

She gave me a shy look, before nodding. "Yes, Mama."

Mrs. Cheng ran a hand through her daughter's hair, smoothing her bangs out. "Your Papa's almost finished up in the bakery, so we'll have supper soon." She went over to the pot that sat on the stove top and opened the lid, releasing a cloud of steam. "Is pasta alright with you, Adrien?"

"It sounds delicious," I said, then laughed. "My dietitian would be furious if he knew. Pasta? Cookies?"

Marinette gave me an odd look. "You have a dietitian?"

I ducked my head. "Father wants me to be healthy."

But it wasn't just that. It was barely that.

Marinette gave me a look of understanding, like she knew the truth, and decided not to voice her disapproval, even though I saw the trace of it in her eyes, appraising me. Or maybe I'd only imagined it?

She turned her attention to measuring the flour. "Maybe if your dietitian tasted my cookies, they'd understand."

As we mixed the batter, flour seemed to get everywhere, dusting the counter, our clothes. The smell of sugar hung in the air. We even tasted the raw dough. I'd never done that before.

Mr. Dupain came up just as Marinette slid the tray of cookies into the oven.

"Supper will be ready in a few," Mrs. Cheng called to him.

He winked. "Then I better wash up." I felt his eyes rest on me. "Ah, Adrien. Are you having supper with us?"

"Yes, Sir."

He smiled. "Please, call me Tom. It'll be nice having another fellow around. Some days I feel a little outnumbered, you know?"

Marinette crossed her arms and gave me a sly look. "You two will have a great time, Papa. Adrien loves puns _almost_ as much as you do."

Tom laughed. Like a rumble of thunder, but much warmer and cheerier than that. "I look forward to hearing some, then."

Perhaps, if I'd had the nerve, the confidence, I would have come up with something smooth on the spot, but I just smiled back, too nervous to speak.

Sabine turned from the stove and eyed the two of us. "You better wash off too. You're as covered in flour as he is. And Marinette, why don't you look for a clean shirt for Adrien to change into?"

She dusted the flour from her hands. "Yes, Mama."

"You've got a little something there," I said, and couldn't help myself as I reached out and smudged flour onto her nose.

"Adrien," she said, her cheeks turning rosy. She gave a nervous glance at her mother, who _seemed_ to be paying little attention to us. "Come on, you can change in the bathroom upstairs."

We went up to her room, where she dug around for a few minutes before pulling out a plain white t shirt. She looked at it, before giving it to me.

I held it out to inspect it, and noticed the paint splatters that dusted the front. "This should fit fine."

She covered her face with her hands. "I feel so silly."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because," she whispered. "I've tried explaining to my parents that we're not a couple. But you're not really helping me prove that, are you?"

"What am I doing wrong?" I asked, lowering my voice to match hers.

She gestured to me. "Just, all _this._ And the flour-"

"Do you think they like me?"

Marinette froze. "What?"

I glanced at the trapdoor. "Your parents. Do you think they like me?"

Her face softened with understanding. "Yes, Adrien. I think they like you a lot."

"Pleease," Plagg moaned. "Enough of the sappy stuff. I'm trying to nap here."

I rolled my eyes. "You could sleep through an earthquake, Plagg. Knock it off."

My kwami picked himself from his napping spot and followed me into the bathroom. "So how long are you planning on staying here?"

As I pulled my shirt off, I bumped over a container of hair pins into the sink. "Just for supper," I replied hastily, then carefully picked up each pin. I breathed a sigh of relief that none went down the drain.

Plagg sniffed the shirt Mari had given me to change into. "Hm. Smells like strawberries."

I admit, it did make me feel a little silly. "Still better than cheese, though."

"Adrien, what about me?" Plagg asked. "Do I get any of this supper?"

"You have to stay up here where Mari's parents won't see you," I said, and tugged the t shirt over my head. "But I'll be back for you soon."

"With cheese?"

My eyes narrowed. "You'll get cheese when we're home."

He gave a mournful wail, before curling up in my folded shirt on the counter. "If I waste away while you're gone, I hope you feel guilty for starving me."

"The day you starve is the day Paris runs out of Camembert," I told him, my voice softening, just a little.

As I opened the door, I swear I heard Marinette talking, but she was the only one there.

"Were you talking to someone?" I asked.

She spun around, her hair loose, hairbrush in hand. "No, no! Just talking to myself."

I couldn't help but give her another glance. I'd never seen her with her hair down before. It looked nice.

"Marinette, Adrien? The food's ready," Tom called.

As we went downstairs, Sabine was pulling the cookies from the oven. "Looks like a good batch, you two."

I couldn't help but notice the TV, which had been switched on while we were upstairs. The sound was turned so low I couldn't hear it, but I could tell it was just the regular stuff, until the banner changed to "breaking news" and some footage rolled of people running through the street.

I reached over and tugged at Marinette's sleeve. She gave me a confused look, till I nodded at the TV. Her eyes widened. I looked back at the news, just in time to see a car sail through the air, and crash into the side of a building.

"Uh, Mama?" Marinette said, her voice strained. "Actually, Adrien can't stay for supper."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's a model thing," I offered. "My Father called and he needs me right away."

Sabine shook her head. "Oh, that's too bad."

"Yeah," I said, and reached up to touch the back of my neck. "I'm really sorry. I wish I didn't have to go."

She pulled out a cardboard box with the Boulangerie Patisserie's logo on it, and began scooping cookies inside. "At least take these with you."

I glanced back at the television, and got a glimpse of a hulking figure walking through the streets. It was most definitely an Akuma. I glanced over at Marinette, who stood there fidgeting with a strand of her hair.

Sabine closed the box and placed it in my hands, the warmth radiating through the cardboard. "There. You're all set, dear."

"Thank you, so much," I said.

"Ahem," Marinette said. "Don't want to forget your shirt."

 _My shirt. Right._

I hurried up to the bathroom and found my kwami napping. How he could fall asleep so fast, I have no idea. "Plagg, wake up. There's an Akuma."

He stirred, his acid eyes blinking open. "But I was having such a good dream. There was cheese. Cheese everywhere. Cheese rivers, a cheese Eiffel-"

"That's enough," I said. "Come on."

I could have transformed right there, and left by way of Marinette's balcony, but to avoid suspicion, I went through the house again.

"Thank you so much for everything," I told her parents, as she practically pushed me out the door.

"We'll have to have you over again sometime," Tom said.

"Come on, Cat Charming," Marinette said, too quietly for them to hear.

Once we were in the blue papered hall, Plagg drifted into the open. "I better get double the cheese for this."

I just smirked at him. "Plagg, claws out!"

I transformed with a flash of green, and was about to jump down the stairway, when Marinette reached out and grabbed my hand. "Adrien, wait."

I felt a smile on my face, a feeling purely electric flow through me. No one had ever called me by my name while I was wearing the suit before.

It felt nice. It felt right.

"What is it?" I asked.

She hesitated, her eyes searching mine. I stilled, almost feeling the weight of what she was going to say settle on my shoulders. Even though I didn't know what it was, it seemed hard for her to say.

She finally let out a deep breath. "I want you to be careful. . . okay?"

I knew that wasn't what she'd been trying to tell me. A part of me felt hurt she couldn't tell me whatever it was, but I pushed it away. She would when she was ready.

I winked. "Careful's my pedigree, Mari."

She shook her head, and tried to disguise her smile. "Go kick some akuma butt."

I grinned, allowing myself to linger only a second longer, before I leapt over the banister and dropped two stories to the floor below.

* * *

I leapt across rooftops, rushing to reach the scene of the akuma. I loved the feeling, of adrenaline, of air in my lungs, the feeling of flying as I vaulted over a street.

Then I heard the whir of Ladybug's yoyo. She appeared at my side, swinging from chimney to chimney. It spurred me to go faster, like it was a race to see who would get there first.

The sky grew a shade of deep rose, and the city lights and headlights of traffic set a glow over the city, like a warm fog,

When we reached the street I'd seen on the news, it was still, and ghost town empty. I walked past overturned cars, shattered shop windows, and a lamppost that leaned crooked, like a wilted flower. The bulb flickered in the dusk light.

I looked up and down the street, eyes and ears alert for any sign of the akuma. "Where is it?"

Ladybug strapped her yoyo at her hip. "Maybe it's hiding?"

"Maybe," I said, and stroked my chin. "Look, I know now's not the best time. . ."

Her attention shifted to me, and her blue eyes stunned me speechless.

I took out the carton of cookies that I'd had tucked in my belt. "But later I may not get the chance to give you this."

"What. . . What's this?"

I smiled, and felt myself drawn closer to her, like the pull of a magnet. "It's for you, Bugaboo."

She stared at the cookies for a moment, not saying anything.

I couldn't help the concern that cropped up in my voice. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said quickly. "This was incredibly sweet, Chat. Thanks."

I beamed with pride, and had to restrain myself from telling her that I had made them. At least I'd helped to make them. But it would be easy to identify which bakery that box came from, and maybe that would be too much of a clue to give to her.

She nestled the box in a large potted plant outside a cafe, and gave it a loving look that made my heart skip. "I'll be back for you."

As we went by a boutique with a pastel door and gold lettering on the shop window, I caught sight of someone inside. Someone rooting through the cash register.

"C'mon, man," I said, disgusted.

Ladybug turned and followed my gaze, and sighed when she saw. We entered the shop, bell ringing as the door swung open. It was loud in the empty silence of the building. The guy froze when he saw us, and I startled when I recognized his face.

Aaron? The guy from the bridge, the one who'd asked to take a picture with us. The guy who'd called us his heroes. It was hard not to feel a little disappointed.

"It's you," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

He stood there, his hand balled around cash from the register. "C-chat Noir! Ladybug?"

Ladybug crossed her arms. "What are you doing?"

His face burned with shame. "I-I. . ."

"Hands outta the cookie jar," I said, and hefted my baton for effect.

"I'm disappointed in you, Aaron," Ladybug said, her voice much softer than mine.

He released the wad of money, change jingling into the tray. "You remember my name?"

"Of course I remember your name." She went over and closed the register drawer. "An akuma can't help the harm they cause. Hawkmoth manipulates them into doing bad things. But you. You're choosing to do wrong."

"I'm. . sorry," he said, and sounded it too.

I felt something shift behind me. Something I wouldn't have felt without my enhanced senses. I spun around in time to see one of the racks of clothing lift from the floor, revealing the akuma. He raised it above his head, his arms bulging with unnatural strength.

Ladybug shoved Aaron behind the counter for cover. "Get down!"

I looked up and the akuma stood there, his breath heavy, yellow eyes filled with rage. He growled and let out a deafening roar. He threw the rack of clothing aside, like it was nothing. His hands clenched, ready to swing.

I reached back for my baton and brought it up just in time to meet a crushing blow the akuma swung my way.

"Hey big guy!" Ladybug called. "Over here!"

His attention shifted from me, and I took the chance to slink away. Being in close quarters with that thing was not fun. It felt entirely too much like an ant and boot situation.

Ladybug vaulted over the counter and ducked right through a rack of clothes. The akuma took after her, and for the first time I fully comprehended what a bull in a china shop might look like.

She dodged one of his swings, and tossed a glance over her shoulder. "So what do you call yourself?"

He let out a hot breath and deep growl. He beat against his chest and let out another roar. "I am _Le Gorille."_

I nearly dropped my baton. "Gorilla?"

 _It's my bodyguard. I know it is._

He turned on me, and stared me down. If he'd been intimidating before Hawkmoth gave him a makeover, try multiplying that by ten. I set my shoulders, trying to appear bigger, but I don't know what good it did me. Gorilla charged, and I sidestepped. He kept going, and going, straight through the store's front window. Glass flew through the air onto the sidewalk.

Aaron scrambled from behind the counter and bolted for the door. The bell rang, and the door swung shut. He took off down the street, in the opposite direction the akuma went.

Ladybug shot me a tired look. "Let him go. We've got more important things to take care of."

We trailed the akuma for a few blocks before we caught up with him near Pont Neuf. People streamed past, in a panic. Cars had been abandoned, left running with their headlights shining into the growing darkness.

My enhanced senses picked it up before Ladybug did, but soon enough we could both see the vehicle sailing through the air, headed right for us. On instinct, I scooped her off her feet and leapt to safety, with such force, we both ended up tangled on the concrete.

There was the sound of metal as it crunched against asphalt, and glass shattered. Then a stillness, as the dust settled.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

Normally she would have pulled away, soon as she could. I can tell Ladybug isn't the fondest of physical contact. Even when it's necessary during a fight. So when she stayed there, huddled against me a moment longer, my first reaction was fear.

"Ladybug, are you hurt?"

"I'm alright."

I knew I shouldn't be taking my focus off the akuma, but it was difficult not to be distracted by how nice it felt to have her there in my arms, her face buried in my shoulder. "You sure?"

She shifted away, but left a hand on my arm, and gave me a gentle smile. "Thanks to you."

I picked myself off the ground, and helped Ladybug to her feet. I turned to survey the bridge and beyond it.

 _Oh._

I had a guess where Gorilla was headed now. Just across the bridge, a street over, was my Father's company building.

It wasn't hard to put the pieces together.

My eyes narrowed. "We have to stop him before he hurts anyone else."

Ladybug tossed her yoyo into the air. "Lucky charm!" She looked intently at the object that dropped into her arms. "A mop. . . Okay."

I gave her a sympathetic look. "I'll try and stall him while you figure it out."

With that, I took off, running along the roofs of vehicles until I reached Gorilla. I hurled the end of my baton at him, but he didn't even flinch from the impact. _Uh oh._

Next thing I knew, he had gripped me by my shoulders, hands of a giant crushing into me.

"GAH." I grit my teeth. "LB! Not to bug you. . ." I strained, but his grip only grew tighter. "Anytime you're ready!"

He must not have appreciated my pun, because he smashed me to the ground and pinned me there to the concrete. His fist hit me, again and again. My vision blurred. My body felt numb and breaking all at the same time. Then I was whipping through the air, as he threw me over the side of the bridge. I crashed through the surface of the Siene.

A part of me screamed at my arms and legs to move, to swim to the surface, but they didn't respond. My vision grew darker and darker, my body heavy, sinking through the black river.

Only her silhouette was visible to me against the silver moon as she dove in after me, her arms outstretched.

Maybe I blacked out. All I know is one moment I was plunging to the bottom of the river, the next I was in Ladybug's arms as she pulled me out of the water.

The concrete felt so hard pressing into my knees, then my back as she lay me down. But she cradled my head in her arms. I heard her voice from faraway.

" _Please, Chat. Wake up, you're okay, I've got you now."_

I tried to answer, but I felt myself drowning in a sleepy state I couldn't break.

Then air rushed into my lungs, woke my brain. I bolted straight up, and Ladybug's arms tightened around me. She buried her face in my shoulder. The warmth felt so nice after being in the water.

"You're alright," she said, her voice breaking with relief.

"You didn't kiss me, did you?"

"No," she said, then gave me a dry look. "You seem to be breathing just fine on your own."

I leaned ever so closer, and didn't try to disguise the hunger in my eyes as I looked at her. "Maybe you should, just to make sure."

She shot back, and I immediately regretted my words. "Yeah, you're fine," she said, her voice forcing a casual tone.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make you feel uncomfortable," I rushed to say. "I just. . ." I stopped myself. _I just really wanted to kiss you._

Ladybug looked up at the bridge, now several blocks away.

I eased off the cement, to a sitting position. "The akuma, is it-"

"I stopped it," she said, and still wouldn't look at me. "Everything's back to normal."

"Right." I pushed myself off the ground, feeling every bit like a half drowned cat.

 _I'm such an idiot. Why do I always say the dumbest things around her?_

Ladybug found her feet, and finally met my eyes. "Are you badly hurt?"

I paused to take inventory. "I think I'll be okay."

"You're sure?" She bit her lip. "I'm here, Chat. If you need me."

"I know."

A cloud passed over the moon, making the light down here by the river dimmer.

Neither of us made a move to leave.

"M'lady?" My cheeks warmed. "I really am sorry about what I said. You know, about the kiss."

"It's alright. You'd just been beat up and thrown into a river. I understand if you weren't thinking straight," she said lightly.

"No," I said, and found the courage to step closer. "I was thinking just fine. But I should have asked. I should have told you. . ." My heart clenched from the effort it took for me to say this to her. "That I wanted to kiss you. But I was scared to, so I made a joke out of it. Please, forgive me."

Her cheeks turned crimson.

It startled me. _Since when do I make Ladybug blush?_

Normally she brushed it all off like it was nothing. Even my smoothest lines, like water on a duck. Or maybe I was making her uncomfortable again.

"Should. . . should I not have said that?"

"I'm just confused," she whispered.

My eyes widened. "I thought you didn't have feelings for me."

"No-" she shook her head, "I mean, I don't know."

"Do you?"

"Chat!" she shouted.

"Are you angry at me?"

She hung her head. "I'm angry at myself." Then she mumbled a word, something I wouldn't have been able to understand without my super hearing. _"Coward."_

Her miraculous beeped. But she stayed where she was.

My own cheeks heated as the space between us grew smaller. "I'd still like to kiss you, you know."

She looked at me, even leaned nearer. I tilted my head, every inch of me burning, waiting. We came so close, our hands brushed, our breath mingled.

"No." Ladybug turned her head away from me. "This feels wrong."

My heart fell. "Why?"

"Because. . . because you don't know who I really am," she said.

"Well, we could. . ." I trailed off, searching for the courage to go on. "We could fix that."

Her voice wavered. "Y-you might not like what you see."

I looked her in the eye, and took her hand in mine. "Ladybug, I promise you, I will adore the girl behind that mask. Whoever she is."

"Chat, I can't tell you. I can't."

I turned stiff, the light in my eyes fading.

"Chat-"

"No," I said, my voice flat. "I understand."

I took a step back to put some distance between us. The quiet was deafening, my heart pounding, aching.

"Chat, I'm _sorry_."

". . . Please, don't apologize. I respect your privacy, M'lady. I won't ask you to do something you're not comfortable with."

And with that, I took off into the night.

* * *

I didn't knock. Normally I would knock, but I didn't. I was so angry I threw the doors open, and walked straight into my Father's office.

He looked up from his phone call, startled by the loud noise. "Something's come up. We'll have to finish this conversation later," he said, and hung up on whoever he'd been speaking to.

I strode forward and placed both hands on the desk, set my jaw and looked him right in the eye. "I want to know why you fired him."

Father's mouth tightened to an even straighter line, if that was possible. "He failed to do his job."

"What are you talking about?"

"He could never keep track of you. That was his job, looking after you. That's difficult to do when you disappear as often as you do, now isn't it?"

"This isn't about me," I said, raising my voice.

"Yes." His eyes narrowed. "It is."

"But Father-"

"I won't bother to go through the entire list. Missed classes, missing after school most days, you disappeared during the show last night. We've already discussed that. And tonight. . ." He shook his head. "Tonight you left the house, after I specifically told you that you were to stay here."

I wouldn't deny it.

"It seems your rebellious behavior flared after you began attending school-"

 _No._

"-So I've made a decision."

 _Please._

"You will not be going to school anymore. You'll resume your studies here, at home."

My hands trembled. _Breathing_ hurt.

"I'm doing this for your own good," Father said, attempting to sound. . . affectionate?

"This isn't like the time you wouldn't let me play Pokemon Go," I told him, my voice cracking.

He gave me a cold look. "It's exactly like that, Adrien. Both are for your own safety. Not to mention your grades aren't as high, you're late for photo shoots, which never used to happen-"

"But I have friends there!" I pushed away from the table, tears stinging my eyes. "Are you going to tell me I can't even see _them?_ "

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Visits with friends can be scheduled. As long as you're keeping up with your studies. As long as you're not _grounded._ "

I bit down hard. "Father. . . please, don't do this."

"I'm afraid my mind has already been made."

* * *

I flopped onto my couch, and stared up at the ceiling. I fingered the ring on my hand, finding comfort in just knowing it was there. At least that was one thing Father couldn't take away from me.

My mind inevitably wandered to Ladybug. My breath caught in my throat, my face heating.

Had I lost her, too?

 _I was so stupid, to believe she'd- that she might. . . I mean, how could someone like her, want someone like me?_

I really couldn't do anything right, could I?

"Adrien?" a soft voice asked.

I couldn't look him in the eye. "What is it, Plagg?"

"Are. . . are you okay?"

Hot tears clouded my eyes. Plagg never really showed affection, but it was nice to know he cared about something other than Camembert. A lump caught in my throat, and I couldn't answer him.

"You've had a rough day." He gave me a hopeful look. "Maybe some cheese would help?"

 _And there went the moment._

I swung from the couch to my feet. "Alright."

I moved over to my desk and pulled open a drawer with Plagg's stash in it. Except I'd opened the wrong drawer. There was only one thing inside. A bracelet. A good luck charm.

"That's not cheese," Plagg said, sounding mournful.

I slipped it on, and brushed my thumb over the colorful beads. I looked up, and my eyes caught on something dark floating past my window. It came closer, and slipped through an impossibly tiny crack, wings expanding again as it entered my room.

I stared at it, fully understanding what it was. What it would do. But not a single ounce of me cared. I stood, almost in a trance. The butterfly came closer, so gentle but poisonous all the same. It was beautiful, in an other worldly way.

Something tugged at my bracelet. "Adrien," Plagg began, sounding desperate. "Do something!"

But I didn't. I just stood there as it fluttered closer, as it landed on my wrist and absorbed into the bracelet, turning it dark and decayed.


	6. Act One: VI

**Note: _Pourrir_** **means rotted, corrupt or decayed in French.**

* * *

The moon was high in the sky now. I felt numb and tired as I dropped through my skylight into my bed. I shed the costume, and slumped into my covers.

I stretched and buried my face further into my giant cat pillow. "What time is it?"

"It's nearly midnight," Tiki replied. I heard the smile in her voice as she flitted closer. "That was quick thinking with the mop. You're so creative, Marinette. I'm really proud of you."

I rolled out of bed and swayed as I stepped down the ladder. My body ached from being tossed around by Gorilla. "Saving Paris is tough work, Tiki."

She was quiet for a moment. Very uncharacteristic of my little kwami. Then she spoke, her voice soft. "You were going to tell him, weren't you?"

I froze, the chill from the floor seeping through my bare feet. "No. Of course not."

"Marinette," Tiki said, her voice unusually firm.

My shoulders slumped. "Okay. I was."

The silence felt thick around me, my room lit only by the lights strung across one of the beams that supported the ceiling.

The dimness reminded me of earlier that night. The memory came to me, took my breath away it felt so real. That darkened place by the edge of the river, completely drenched, and not alone. Acid eyes glowing in the dark, burning into me. Doubt tearing me inside out. How honest he was. How afraid I'd felt. He'd been so close to me. So close, we nearly. . .

 _I almost gave in. I almost let it happen._

"I made the right decision." I glanced uncertainly at Tiki, though only her silhouette was visible. "Didn't I?"

"I won't tell you what you should or shouldn't have done," she said, her words careful. "But don't you think he deserves to know the truth? Can you go on like this, never telling him?"

"I don't know."

I was just so afraid, terrified of showing him it was _me_ under the mask. He thought so much of Ladybug. . . I don't think plain old me could ever measure up to that.

"You don't have to know right now," Tiki replied. "It's a big decision, Marinette. But think about it. Alright?"

I changed into my pajamas and snuggled up in bed. Just as I drifted to the edge of sleep, my phone buzzed. I opened up the chat Alya had set up with Nino, Adrien, and I.

 _Nino: Dudes am I the only one hyped for Mecha Strike IV!?_

I smiled, and sent a reply: _I can't wait either :)_

Then Alya went off about this book she was reading right now: _For fudge's sake. If the two main characters would only talk to each other then this drama would cease!_

I just watched the chat go by, a frown on my face.

Adrien hadn't so much as sent a cat gif.

 _He's probably just asleep,_ I told myself. _Like I should be right now._

But I couldn't help but tap away from the group chat, and send him a private text: _Hey. You doing OK?_

I stared at the screen, willing him to answer.

Yeah. He was probably just sleeping.

 _Nino: Hey, Alya. You might wanna check out the news._

 _Alya: NO WAY. Two akumas in one day? Dang, Hawkmoth._

"What!?" I bolted up in bed, gripping my phone. "Tiki, we have to go. Right now."

Maybe _that's_ why Adrien wasn't answering his phone. How long had poor Chat been waiting on me to show up?

"Tiki, spots on!"

With a shimmer of pink light, I was transformed again. I pulled out my yoyo and jumped through the skylight into the night. I could already see the red and blue flashing in the distance.

Along the way I found a trail of cars, buildings, trees. . . all left in a decayed heap. It looked too much like Cataclysm to be a coincidence. Did we have another Copy Cat on the loose?

As I drew closer to the Eiffel, I saw that the tower stood unlit, aside from a spotlight the police or firemen had trained on it. An army of officers and news reporters had gathered on the ground. I landed next to a patrol car that had fallen victim to the akuma's power.

"Ladybug," the officer said. "We're so glad you're here."

"What's going on?" I asked.

"The akuma kidnapped Gabriel Agreste," another said, then pointed up at the Eiffel. "He says he won't take anything but your miraculous in return for Mr. Agreste's safety."

I turned, and my eyes followed the spotlight to where a black figure stood. I shivered, feeling he was watching me intently. Like predator eyeing prey.

"Where's Chat Noir?" I asked.

"We haven't seen hide nor tail of him," the first officer said. "We were beginning to worry you wouldn't come-"

"I'm here now," I said, with a steadiness, a courage in my voice I didn't quite feel. "I'll take care of this."

I walked till I was out of earshot of everyone, and opened my communicator to contact Chat Noir. Panic was beginning to settle in. _Answer, me Chaton._ Why wasn't he here? His own Father was in danger. What would possibly stop him from being here?

"I need you," I whispered. "Please, don't make me do this alone."

But he didn't answer.

I looked up. The akuma was still watching me.

I sighed, then gathered myself. _You've got this. You're Ladybug. Ladybug can handle anything._ With that, I whipped out my yoyo and began scaling the tower. I'm not sure how well my pep talk helped, because my hands were shaky as I lifted myself over the railing and onto the observation deck.

I didn't see him at first. He must have ducked into a shadow when he saw me approaching. It was only when he spoke that I saw him.

"Ah, Ladybug," he said, his voice quiet, almost gentle.

I studied him carefully. Normally Hawkmoth outfitted his goons in something bright. A ridiculous costume to suit his victims', or perhaps his own vanity. But not this one. He wore plain black. The single article of decoration was the bracelet worn over the cuff of his glove. It was the only color on him, and even that was washed out. As he stepped from the shadows, I could see the mess that was his blond hair. I could see his face.

"Adrien?" My voice broke, as did something deep inside me.

"No," he said, and stepped closer. "Not Adrien. _Je suis Pourrir_."

I shook myself and forced my mind on task. It was the only way to keep myself from sinking to my knees. "Where is your Father?"

He smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. His eyes that were drained of color, but toxic all the same. "You will see."

I glanced down at the bracelet, and now I recognized it. It took me back to an afternoon spent playing video games, spent eating snacks in the park. When I'd worked up the courage to give my crush a bracelet I'd made for him long before that moment.

Pourrir let out a low laugh, one that sent shivers down my spine. And he leapt up, and began scaling the tower. I could tell he was luring me away, maybe into a trap, but I followed. I followed him until he stopped at the very top.

Mr. Agreste lay in a heap on the narrow walkway. His hands were bound, and he was still, paralyzed by fear. "Ladybug!"

"Stay calm, monsieur," I said. "This will be over in a minute, you'll be safe, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Pourrir purred.

He took a step toward Mr. Agreste but I swung my yoyo, and caught him by his right wrist. I was about to pull with all my might, to try and bring him down, but he lunged forward, and dropped to the floor. With an agility that caught me off guard, he rolled past me, suddenly behind me.

Pourrir pulled the wire taught across my neck in attempt to strangle me. I kicked for his leg, but he sidestepped, bringing the string full circle around my legs. He pulled and I lost my balance. Slammed onto my back, and knocked all the air right out of me.

 _Remember, this is Chat you're fighting._ Though I'm afraid the familiarity wasn't to my advantage.

I picked myself up and tried again. The two of us fought, dancing around each other, slipping between each other's grasp. I grew more and more angry as he deflected each move I made to immobilize him, and I had to stop to catch my breath.

"Stop playing with me," I said, and growled. "You're not even trying to get my miraculous."

Pourrir stopped, a bit winded himself. "That's because I'm not trying to take it." He gave me a heavy look. "I want you to _give_ it to me."

A lump rose in my throat, and I nearly broke into tears right then and there. _This is my fault. I hurt him._ I'd hurt him more than I realized, and that made it all the harder to bare. _How could I do this to him?_ "Look," I said, and hated how my voice quavered . "Whatever happened. . . Whoever hurt you, we can work through this."

 _Let me help you, Chaton. Please._

He was very still, then lowered his head. "I have no one to blame but myself."

Faster than I could react, he pulled Mr. Agreste to his feet and shoved him back, until he had him a step away from hundreds of feet of nothing. Mr. Agreste flailed desperately for balance. It was only Pourrir, holding him by the front of his suit that kept him from falling.

"NO!"

 _If anything happens to either of them, I'll never forgive myself._

"Give me your miraculous, Ladybug."

"Okay, okay," I said, my voice shaking. "Just bring him away from the edge."

Pourrir shook his head. "Not until I have those stones."

". . . Alright," I said.

Pourrir allowed Mr. Agreste a bit more balance, easing him from the very brink of the edge.

I felt the pain in my chest, my breath short, and hot. I could just feel Hawkmoth grinning, basking in how close he was to victory. It disgusted me.

 _But my powers are not worth Adrien's or his Father's life._

Finally, I set my yoyo on the ground. "I'll do it."

"Ladybug!" Mr. Agreste shouted. "Catch!"

Something small flew through the air. _The bracelet._

"No, stop!" Pourrir let go of his captive and leapt forward.

But it was too late. I caught it, then threw it on the ground, crushing it under my foot. Out came the butterfly, trying to escape into the night.

" _Tu as fait assez de mal._ " I caught the akuma in my yoyo, then released it glowing and white.

Pourrir's costume came away in tendrils of dark, his hair became less mangled, and the color flooded back to his eyes. He froze, a look of confusion on his face.

His balance faltered, and he slipped from his precarious position on the edge of the beam.

My body moved on instinct, acted immediately, and I dove after him. Every second felt an eternity, until finally, I grasped his hand. I tossed my yoyo and it snagged on a girder. My grip on him strained as we came to a jarring halt. We swung back and forth, until our momentum finally stilled. And there we were, hanging from the Eiffel Tower.

Adrien grasped my left hand tighter as a gust of wind hit us. I looked down and met his eyes. They were scared. I was scared.

"Don't let go," I said, partially to myself.

 _Don't let go. Don't let go._

Our feet dangled over the sidewalk below, people pointing and saying things in a panic. The spotlight moved from the observation deck and surrounded us with a blinding white. His grip began to slip, and his other hand quickly came up to clamp around my wrist, as he tried to get a better hold.

"Can you climb up?" I asked, trying to speak calmly.

He didn't answer, but managed to lift himself enough that I could get my arm around his waist. He clung to me as I hooked my yoyo on one of the lower beams of the tower. We swung down, and our feet touched the pavement as gently as if we'd taken a step from a flight of stairs.

He eased away from me, his legs unsteady. "We made it."

I was too filled with relief to feel embarrassed. I rushed forward, until I found myself, head buried in his chest, arms hugging him tight to me. I choked on a dry sob. "I'm so sorry," I found myself saying. "I never wanted to hurt you. Please, don't hate me."

 _This is my fault. All mine. I hurt him and he. . . He could have. . ._

". . . Hate you?" he asked, his voice strange. As if he didn't understand at all.

I craned my neck to look straight up at him, and it dawned on me.

Ladybug hugging Adrien Agreste?

I pulled away, my cheeks burning, and looked out at the sea of cameras.

 _What was I thinking?_

"I'm such an idiot," I whispered to myself.

Adrien stared at me. Something dark there, something _lost._ And then he looked at me, like he'd never really _seen_ me before this moment. "What did you just say?"

I stilled, my eyes wide, breath caught. _Did I just give myself away?_ Did he. . . know?

Before I could ask, or even formulate _how_ to ask, medics came forward to check over the both of us. "I'm alright," I said, and waved away the shock blanket they tried to wrap around me. "I need to go help Mr. Agreste. He's still up there on top of the tower."

I couldn't help how my gaze wandered to Adrien. He'd accepted the shock blanket, and a paramedic guided him to a nearby bench. Adrien glanced up, our eyes met, and everything around me seemed to slow. He looked confused, and hurt.

But of course, speaking to him wasn't an option with so many people around. It helped a little that the police made a barricade to keep the reporters and cameras at a distance. Even still.

I forced myself to turn away, and grasped my yoyo. With a flick of my wrist, I'd caught it on a beam of the Eiffel, and made my way to the top. Mr. Agreste stood, his hands gripped tight to part of a barrier.

"Ladybug," he said, with a curt nod. "There you are."

"Your son is safe, monsieur." I pushed past the waver in my voice. "Let's get you to solid ground, alright?"

Once we were down, he went straight to his son, took him in his arms and hugged him. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen."

Adrien didn't respond, just stood there, frozen. Finally, he pulled away, determination in his eyes. "Father, I want to go to school. It's where my friends are. Where I can feel like a normal kid."

His Father seemed embarrassed, and glanced at the police officers and paramedics watching. "Well, perhaps I was. . . hasty." He fidgeted with the collar of his suit. "We can discuss this later, of course."

Mr. Agreste placed a hand on Adrien's shoulder to guide him away, but his son stepped back. He turned, and looked right at me. "Thank you, Ladybug. You saved my life."

I tried to hold my head high, tried to sound like Ladybug. But I didn't have it in me. "Saving Paris is my job."

It felt hollow. I felt hollow.

 _I'm no hero._

I watched the Agrestes leave, the feeling in my chest growing tighter.

One of the officers I'd spoken to earlier tapped me on the shoulder. "Hey, Ladybug. Think you could do your whole 'miraculous ladybug' thing? I'd like to have my car back, if that's alright."

"Oh. Right." I took out my yoyo, on autopilot, a passenger, and tossed it in the air. _"Miraculous Ladybug."_

The night sky filled with light. Normally the sight brought a smile to my face, but I just watched in a daze as it shot in every direction, dancing around the things Pourrir had destroyed, and restored them, like the whole thing had never happened.

But it did.

* * *

Through my hazy vision I found the snooze button on my alarm clock. Normally I would have dozed right off again, but I stared up at the ceiling, feeling every bit as sick as I did when Chloe forced me to eat a crayon in preschool.

I'd have to make it through today with the minimal sleep I'd gotten last night after. . . After everything. But I was determined to carry on like nothing happened. Because Adrien couldn't possibly think _I_ was Ladybug.

He'd probably just been in shock from being hugged by Ladybug. Adrien could break me just by giving me those green eyes and that mischievous smile.

I sank into a puddle, and groaned into my pillow. My cheeks burned just thinking about him. _How am I possibly going to make it through today?_

Pretending everything was the way it wasn't was the only way I was going to be able to face him.

Finally, my stomach growled and I ventured beyond my bed. The moment my feet touched down on the floorboards, I knew it was a sweatpants and cereal kind of a day.

Both my parents were down in the bakery so I was alone as I drifted through the kitchen. I struggled to find a clean spoon, all the while, ghosts of memories haunting me from the day before. When his eyes had lit up with excitement, just from the thought of baking some cookies. When we'd been at the sink, and I'd taken his hands in mine. . .

I snapped out of my daydream, and grumbled at myself for allowing milk to spill onto my slippers. That's when I decided to go to the freezer and pull out the ice cream. Three scoops, right on top of my cereal.

 _Mm. That's better._

Nino and Alya already stood in line, about a third of the way from the door. She was wearing his headphones, probably listening to a song he'd wanted her to hear when I joined them.

Alya slid them off, and leaned closer to inspect me. "Wow. You look tired. Did you get enough sleep last night?"

"I'm fine," I said, and cast a look over my shoulder.

She waggled her eyebrows. "Couldn't stop thinking about Adrien?"

I crossed my arms, chill in the morning air. "I was just worried about him."

"You and me both, 'Nette," Nino said. "Where is he anyway?"

"Maybe he'll be here before we reach the end of this block," Alya said. "That gives him a good hour or two-"

"Dude. The line is _not_ moving that slow."

Alya yawned. "Sure feels like it."

A guy bumped right into me, nearly throwing me off my feet. I spun to face him. "What the heck is wrong with you?"

"I tripped. I'm sorry," he said.

Nino pointed to his loose shoelace. "Maybe _that's_ why."

His untied shoe wasn't the only thing off about him. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair sloppy underneath the knit cap he wore. And dark sunglasses shielded his face.

 _Who wears sunglasses like that this early in the morning?_

I was already a little freaked because of how shady he looked, but he was standing _very_ close to me. Little did he know I could kick his butt if he tried anything. Little did he know he was dealing with the one and only _Ladybug._

The guy shifted nervously on his feet. "Look, I'm sorry, Marinette."

I grabbed him by the wrist and slammed him into the brick wall, pinning him there. "How do you know my name?"

"Mari, cut it out," he said. "I already know you're stronger than me. You don't have to rub it in."

I blinked, stunned. "Adrien?"

"Hello."

"OhmygoshI'msosorry." I instantly released him. "I didn't realize it was you-"

"It's okay," he said, and straightened his hat.

"What's with the getup dude?" Nino asked.

Adrien lowered his voice so the people around us wouldn't hear. "Just wanted to lay low. I knew I'd be around a lot of people, right after I was on TV and all."

Alya's eyes lit up. "You wouldn't believe how big it's blown up. I haven't had this much buzz on the Ladyblog since I first caught wonder bug on camera!"

I nearly choked. "What?"

She pulled me closer, and shoved her phone toward me, a clip already playing. Even through the poor lighting you could still clearly see as Ladybug (me) and Adrien landed safely beneath the Eiffel. . . the camera zoomed in. Ladybug threw her arms around Adrien, with so much force he almost fell backwards.

My stomach turned. _I can't believe thousands of people have already seen this._

And then there was the article. Where Alya speculated about the spark between fashion model Agreste and the "Love Bug". Were they dating? And if so, how long had they kept their relationship hidden from the public eye?

I glanced at Adrien, his head ducked, his cheeks flaming red. I took a deep breath, and when I spoke, my voice was quiet, because I could barely muster the courage to speak. "Do you really think you should have wrote all that?"

Alya's grin morphed into amusement. "Girl, how could I _not_? Do you realize how big this is?"

"I mean. . . just think about how Adrien feels," I mumbled, unable to look at anything but my shoes.

There was a moment of silence.

"Wait. . ." Alya gasped, and quickly looked between Adrien and I. "YOU'VE KNOWN ALL ALONG?"

I didn't answer, but that was enough for her to continue.

"Girl!"

I took a shaky breath. "Alya, please-"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"The same reason you shouldn't have published that article." My fists clenched, and I was angry enough to ignore the fact that I could feel Adrien staring at me. "He confided a secret to me, and I _respected his feelings."_

People glanced over their shoulders, began to take notice of us.

"Guys," Nino said, and raised his hands in a calming motion. "Let's take a breath, okay?"

Alya's gaze dropped to the sidewalk. "I guess I didn't really think before I said all those things."

"Forget it." My lips pursed. "All you care about is your stupid Ladyblog."

Alya took a step back, stunned. "Marinette! Wait-"

But I was already running.

I didn't slow until the game store and the long line of people were out of sight. The street I found was quieter, with antique shops and produce stands nestled close. I stopped in front of a small cafe, open but empty.

As I stepped inside, the familiar warmth of fresh bread calmed me. I took a moment to close my eyes, and just breathe it in.

" _Bonjour,"_ the lady at the counter called. "How are you this morning?"

I managed a smile as I drew closer. "It's a good morning for a cup of tea."

She nodded. "What can I get for you and your friend?"

I jumped even as she spoke, because I felt the presence of someone beside me. I shot him a look. "You've gotta stop sneaking up on me like that."

Adrien scuffed his shoe against the floor. "Sorry. . ."

"Why did you follow me?" I asked, then forced myself to take a deep breath. I didn't want to yell at him, too. He didn't deserve that.

His hand lifted, and nearly brushed against mine. As if he was going to touch me, but changed his mind. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

I didn't know what to say to that. I awkwardly smiled at the barista, as she patiently waited for my order.

Adrien stepped forward, and pulled out his wallet. "Can I get you something, Mari?"

"Y-you don't have to do that."

"Mari, c'mon."

"Okay. . ." I whispered. "Thanks, Adrien."

He turned away, but not before I saw the blush spreading across his cheeks. "I'll take coffee, black, please. And. . ."

"A c-cup of c-chamomile," I stammered.

 _I thought I was over this. Just talk to him, idiot._

But anything I thought to say got caught in my throat. So we waited in silence as the barista prepared our drinks.

She handed them to us with a wink. "You kids have a good day, alright?"

"You too," Adrien and I echoed.

We both paused a few steps from the counter.

Adrien gave me an uncertain glance. "You wanna head back to the others?"

I bit my lip. "Maybe. . . we could just sit for a little bit?"

So we settled at a table by the window, and let the warmth seep through our cups to our hands. Neither of us spoke for the longest time. It would have been peaceful, it would have been nice, if I didn't feel this weight on my shoulders and butterflies in my stomach.

Adrien pulled the sunglasses away from his face, set them down, and squared me with a determined look.

 _Looks like I wasn't the only one who had a rough night._

And I saw something in him I wasn't used to seeing. He was. . . afraid of something? Of. . . _me?_

"Marinette?"

My hands tightened around my cup of tea. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

I looked out the window. "I shouldn't have spoken to her like that."

"I've never seen you and Alya fight like that before," he said, his voice patient, gentle.

It made me mad that he was being so nice to me. I'd told Alya I kept his crush a secret because I respected his feelings, but I didn't. Not really. Otherwise I wouldn't have hidden the truth from him for so long.

"That's because we never have." I covered my face with my hands. "I regret what I said, but I can't tell her the truth. . ." I lowered my hands, and finally met his gaze. I saw the storm in his eyes, wild and beautiful and dangerous.

"The truth?" he asked, suddenly guarded.

I slumped forward, my face on the table, and hid behind my arms. "The truth," I said, my voice muffled. "That I. . . got angry because. . . I was embarrassed." When he didn't say anything, I went on. "That was supposed to be a private moment. I wasn't acting like. . . a hero. . . It was _me._ And the whole world saw it. And I hate it."

The silence was so heavy I couldn't breath, like I was drowning in it. I was too afraid to look up. To see all the things I always feared I'd see in this moment. So I curled tighter together, feeling that if I didn't, I'd begin to fall apart.

"What if I didn't catch you?" I whispered. "I. . . I was _so scared."_

There was a hand on my arm. "Mari. . . please, don't say that."

I finally raised my head, trembling, afraid of what I would see. "Are you angry with me?"

His eyes widened. "N-no, of course not! I. . ." This time he was the one to cover his face, to blush uncontrollably. "I'm the idiot."

"Aw, c'mon. Don't be so hard on yourself," I said, my voice soft, almost breaking.

He groaned. "I should have seen it sooner."

"I should have told you sooner."

He looked at me again, and I saw hurt there. "Why didn't you?"

I hugged my arms to myself. Unsure of what to say next.

A phone went off.

"That's mine. . ." Adrien pulled his phone out and set it on the table between us, on speaker. "Hey."

"Did you find her yet?" Alya asked. "You've been gone for a long time."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. . . I found her."

"She's listening, isn't she?"

Adrien's eyes flicked to me, and he nodded. "Yeah."

"Nino won't shut up about video games," she said, her voice discouragingly unshaken. "I need backup."

I sank lower in my chair.

Adrien gave her a smirk. "So you call in the nerd squad?"

My cheeks warmed, and I sipped my tea before I said something I might regret.

"We'll-" Adrien stopped himself. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Great," she said, and hung up.

I refused to meet his gaze. "I'm not ready."

He sighed. "The longer you put it off, the harder it's gonna be."

"You're. . . right," I said, and looked at him carefully. "When'd you get so wise?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Let's just say I learned that one from experience." Then he shot me a nervous look. "You have no idea how scared I was to apologize to you about the whole gum on your seat thing."

My mouth dropped. "You're kidding."

Adrien picked up his coffee, and slid from his chair. "I'm dead serious."

I stood as well, and followed as he wandered toward the door. "But you were so popular, and I was so. . . not."

He chuckled. "You were one of the few students who didn't seem to care whether I was famous or not. I was afraid you wouldn't like me for _me."_

Our hands awkwardly touched as we reached for the door at the same time. And all at once it was like something shifted. Something big _._

What was I supposed to tell him? That I'd liked him a whole freaking lot? That I'd still fallen prey to thinking I knew him when I only knew the Adrien that smiled for the cameras? How he'd been my idol and self proclaimed love of my life?

Neither of us said a single word as we walked back to the game store. Once we found Alya and Nino's spot in line, I gathered myself, and went right up to her.

"I'm sorry."

"No, girl. _I'm_ sorry."

We both hugged each other tight.

"I didn't mean what I said," I told her. "Will you please forgive me?"

She gave me a loving pat on the head. "Already forgotten."

I let out a sigh of relief. I felt so much lighter now. Until I glanced at Adrien, who'd put his sunglasses on again. My heart fell, knowing things would never be the same between us.

* * *

I sat in the library, staring at the book in my lap. It had been Chloe's idea to meet early before class to work on our presentation. I'm not sure I'd ever heard it this quiet before.

"Ahem."

My gaze slid over to Chloe, her arms crossed, a frown on her face. "What?"

"Are you going to just sit there, or are you going to help us with our project?" she asked. "We only have today and tomorrow to finish, you know." She nudged Adrien, who had his face buried in a book about insects. "Adrien. Tell her."

He didn't move. "Cut her some slack, Chlo. We've been here for almost an hour." Then he rubbed at his eyes. "Maybe we should take a break. Class is starting soon anyway."

I looked away from Adrien, realizing I'd been staring at him. I picked up the book in my lap and raised it to block out the others. Chloe was right to reprimand me. My mind hadn't been on our project at all. I peeked over at her.

She closed her book, and hummed thoughtfully. She gave me a long hard look, then turned to Adrien, who had gained a sudden concentration on whatever he was reading. She crossed her arms again, then spoke with such weight one would think she was passing a death sentence. "Alright."

 _Uh oh._

Chloe stood, and settled her purse on her shoulder. "You two haven't said more than two words to each other. So, I'm going to take a little stroll. The two of you are going to sit here and work out whatever weird thing is going on between you."

Adrien raised his head, and we spoke together. "What?!"

"Chloe, no," I hissed.

She simply raised an eyebrow. "I'll see you in class."

I watched in horror as she walked right out of the library, leaving me alone with. . . Adrien.

For a long time I couldn't bare to look at anything but my shoes under the table. Then I built the courage to glance up, and immediately regretted it. We must have both glanced at the same time, and our eyes met, only briefly before we turned, looking at anything but each other.

"I should b-be getting to class," I said, and hurried to gather all my things. I shoved them into my backpack, and left, head ducked.

I leaned against the door as it clicked shut, and let out a sigh. _I hate this._

Tiki poked her head out of my bag. "Marinette, what are you doing?"

I looked around to make sure no one had seen her, then ducked into an empty class room. My kwami flew into the open and gave me a look of disappointment. "Why did you leave? It was the perfect time to talk to Adrien!"

"I don't want to talk to him," I whispered, and hugged my arms to myself. "And he doesn't want to talk to me, either."

Tiki's gaze softened. "At least now you both know the truth. Think what would have happened if Adrien had never told you his identity, if he'd never found out you were Ladybug?"

I gave her a hopeless look. "Things would have stayed the way they were. Adrien wouldn't hate me, and I'd still have Chat Noir as my partner."

"But you wouldn't have gotten to know Adrien the way you have. Isn't your friendship worth this to you, Marinette?"

"Yes-" my voice cracked. "But I've lost him now, Tiki."

She gave me a nuzzle. "Don't be so quick to say that. Your friendship is not over, you're just going through a rough patch right now. Everything will work out fine."

My eyes grew watery, wanting to believe what she said was true, so much that it made me ache.

I jumped at the sound of the bell. Tiki hid away in my bag, and I quickly wiped at my eyes before heading into the hall, where students were streaming by.

By the time I stepped into Miss Bustier's classroom, I was beginning to feel better. Then my heart stopped. Nino was sitting in my spot.

Alya waved, a smug look on her face. "Morning, Marinette!"

 _So they thought they'd get me to sit next to Adrien, did they?_ I forced myself to take a step forward, then another. _Well, not today._

I walked right past the empty seat next to Adrien, to the very back of the class. "Hey, Nathaniel."

He looked up at me in surprise. "M-marinette?"

I forced the sweetest, friendliest smile I could muster. "You mind if I sit with you today?"

Nathaniel gathered the mess of loose papers sprawling over his desk. "Not at all."

"Alright, class," Miss Bustier called. "Before we begin, I have an announcement to make." She smoothed a stray strand of hair from her face. "This will be Adrien's last week at school. . ."

All at once, I felt like an idiot. I was avoiding him, just because I was embarrassed, when really, right now was when he needed his friends. _Some friend I am._

Miss Bustier turned to Adrien, a sad smile on her face. "We'll all be very sorry to say goodbye to you, Adrien. And some of the students have suggested that we have a little going away party on Friday. What do you all say to that?"

"I'll be there," Chloe was quick to say.

The rest of the class nodded in agreement.

But I sat there, fighting back tears. Because Tiki was right. He was my friend. And I didn't want him to go. At least not before I told him the truth.

* * *

That week was one of the longest of my life. I knew what I wanted to say to him. I had so many chances to say it.

But I was too afraid.

Thursday after school I paced my room, my mind racing, piecing together the things I wanted say to him, practicing for when I worked up the nerve to actually say them.

Tiki had become quiet over the last couple days, hardly leaving the shelf by my bed. But she came out into the open when my phone went off.

I sat at my desk and lay my phone in front of me. "Hey, Alya," I said, absentminded.

"I know this is kinda last minute, but would you mind meeting me at the park? I'm having trouble with this article for my Ladyblog."

I sighed. "Sure. I don't know how much help I'll be, though."

Alya grinned. "Thanks! You're the best, girl. Meet me in five?"

"Okay." I slipped my phone into my pocket, and shot Tiki a suspicious look. "You don't think she's up to something, do you?"

Tiki giggled. "Alya is _always_ up to something."

I shrugged. "True enough, I guess."

I grabbed a box of assorted pastries from the back of the bakery and headed to the park. It wasn't far, so when I got there I sat on a bench to wait. I settled the box on my lap, and took out a macaron to nibble on, watching as couples and kids went by.

The sun was bright, the sky cloudless. Some would say it was a perfect day. Not too warm, not too cool. The trees were lush, the birds were singing. It sort of untangled a bit of the nerves I'd had wound up inside. Though I quickly changed my mind. It hadn't been more than a few minutes before I spotted him. I nearly choked on my snack.

 _This is just like her. To set up an 'accidental' meeting for us. And I bet Nino helped her._

"Traitor," I whispered.

Adrien turned, and saw me. He looked surprised, then understanding washed over him. But he didn't stop. He came right up to me. "Hi."

"Hello," I said, and stared down at my box of pastries.

"Have you seen Nino around? I uh, was supposed to meet him here."

I stood, more abruptly than I meant to. "No. Alya told me to meet her here too. . . I guess you already figured it out." My cheeks heated. "I can't believe them."

Adrien angled his body away from me, but watched me from the corner of his eye, the way I'd felt him do all week. "Yeah. . . I can't be upset with them, though. I think they're just trying to help." He gave me a quick look. "They're good friends. I'll miss them."

I swallowed, a hollow feeling in my chest. "Your Father won't change his mind?"

His jaw clenched, and he quickly shook his head. "He's too stubborn."

This was the longest conversation we'd had since the cafe on Saturday. Maybe Alya and Nino's plan had worked. Just a little?

I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. All the things I'd practiced to say. . . Didn't seem right.

It started as a distant wail, but soon the sound filled the air. Sirens, coming closer. A fire truck went past the park.

". . . You think we should check that out?" Adrien asked.

I so wasn't in the mood for this right now. It wasn't an akuma. But if Paris was in need, Ladybug wouldn't let them down.

I nodded. "Let's go."

We rushed behind a cluster of trees to transform. _Together._ We came to a stop behind the same oak, the distance between us feeling so small. An urge to run as far away from him as possible charged my limbs, but I forced myself to stay.

"Plagg, claws out!"

"T-tiki?" I choked. "Sp-pots on!"

Even as the familiar glimmer of light swallowed me, I felt something else. Something electric and pulsing with power beside me.

And there we were. Ladybug and Chat Noir. Partners? Classmates? Friends?

Try confused.

I pushed all of that aside, for the sake of the mission. But I got a sinking feeling in my stomach when I saw the fire truck turn in the direction of my house. I saw the smoke.

* * *

It was an accidental fire, the firefighters said. No one was hurt, but the bakery needed major repairs and there was smoke damage to our house.

I gave special attention to my parents, because I couldn't bare the thought of leaving their side. While Chat tried to calm a customer that was in the bakery when it happened, I handed Mama some water to drink. My hands stayed cupped around hers a moment longer than they should have.

"You're safe now," I said, forcing my voice not to shake. I wanted to take her in my arms and hug her. _But I'm Ladybug._ I wanted to comfort her in some way, but there was only so much I could say.

Mama smiled, and took Papa's hand. "Thank you, Ladybug."

Chat gave me a tap on the shoulder. "We should go."

He was right. But it was like I was frozen there.

My Mama looked so frail, the soot dusted her face, as a cough shook her body. Papa stared at the bakery, as tears spilled down his face.

I felt helpless. _I wish my powers could undo all of this._ But I could only repair damage caused by an akuma. This had been a natural event. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't blame Hawkmoth this time.

Chat had to tear me away, his hand around my wrist. Once my feet were moving, my hand found my yoyo, and we took off. We didn't go far, just a block or two, then stopped on the rooftop above a quiet restaurant.

"Spots off, Tiki."

It felt odd, to detransform in front of Chat like that. To watch as Adrien took his place. I turned my back to him and pretended to look down at the city.

Tiki sensed the tension between us, and shrunk against my side. She didn't say a word, but I felt the comfort of her nuzzling into my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Marinette," Adrien said, his voice quiet, almost cautious.

That's when the tears finally came. I tried to cover them up with my hands, tried to stifle any sound from coming out, but my shoulders quaked.

"Oh, Marinette," Tiki whispered.

There was an arm around me, and I melted against him, my face in his shirt, hand clinging to his sleeve.

"I was so scared," I said through a sob.

"I know. But they're okay. Everything's going to be okay."

That's when it finally registered what was happening. When he spoke, I felt the vibrations, could hear his heartbeat. His arms holding me tight to him.

I jumped away, eyes wide.

His arms dropped to his side. He looked. . . embarrassed. I was too. I hadn't meant to-

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. . ." he looked down at his feet in frustration. "I'll go now. C'mon, Plagg."

The kwami gave me a hesitant look, green eyes asking for something. Almost pleading.

"Adrien, wait," I said, with a steadiness in my voice I wasn't expecting to have. "We need to talk." My phone rang, and I fumbled with it, heart racing when I saw who was calling me. "It's Papa."

"You should be with your parents, Marinette."

I tried to think of something to say, something to make him stay. But all I could do was watch as he went down the fire escape. I brought the phone to my ear, took a deep breath, and tried my best to sound normal, because I shouldn't know what Papa was about to tell me.

"Hello?"

* * *

I lay on the bed in my hotel room, hair uncombed, in the same pajamas I'd been in most of yesterday. The tv was turned to a reality baking show, that I watched only absently.

My art supplies? Gone. My clothes? Gone. The dress I'd worn to the fashion show? That was gone too.

My grip tightened around the velvet throw pillow.

Even Papa's recipes, our family recipes. Those were gone, too.

I was past the point of tears. Only numb, now.

I knew, I knew, that I should be grateful for the important things. No one was hurt. Both of my parents were still here. Everything else, they were only things.

But it was still hard.

And now, Mama and Papa were at a meeting with the insurance people. But they'd told me it probably wouldn't be enough money to repair all the damage. That I should prepare myself for moving. That we'd probably be farther away from my school.

My phone went off. It'd been doing that a lot lately. I'd let the messages, the voice mails pile up. I know my friends were only trying to help. I just wasn't ready to talk to them yet.

"Marinette?" Tiki asked.

"Yeah?"

She put her tiny hands around my phone and lifted it, flew over and dropped it in my lap. "It's Alya. Don't you think you should talk to someone? You can't hide from the world for forever."

"I know." I stared down at the screen. "But I can for just a little bit longer."

"Marinette-"

"Okay." I sighed. "Okay, Tiki."

I pressed answer, and Alya popped up in a video call. "Girl, why aren't you here? Did you forget about Adrien's going away party?"

I pulled my knees toward my chest and curled my arms around myself. "I don't think I'm coming."

"WHAT?"

"Oh, give me that," someone said, and the phone changed hands. Chloe gave me a frosty look. "Marinette, stop feeling sorry for yourself and get your butt down here, _now."_

Alya gasped. "Chloe! You can't talk to her like that-"

"This isn't about you," Chloe went on. "This is about Adrien. Right?"

I sighed. "You're right."

She gave me a smug smile. "Say it once more, a little louder?"

"Whatever. . ."

Chloe laughed. "Did you hear what she said Césaire?"

"I heard her," Alya grumbled.

I smiled in spite of myself. I thought there wasn't anyone who could ruffle Alya's feathers. But looks like Chloe knew just how to.

"See you in a few minutes," Chloe said, then ended the call.

I rolled off the bed and slipped into something a bit more presentable, then pulled my hair back into a ponytail. "Guess I don't have a choice, do I?"

Tiki nuzzled my nose. "Yes, you do, Marinette. And I'm proud of you. Your friends are lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

I cupped my hands around my kwami. "I'm pretty luck to have you too, Tiki."

As I approached the school, I stopped in my tracks. On the sidewalk near the front steps, my class had set up several tables. A sign decorated with glitter and little macarons drawn in sharpie read "BAKE SALE".

 _What is going on?_

"Look, she's here!" someone shouted.

"Marinette!" Alya called.

I walked numbly over to the table, where classmates greeted me, smiles on all their faces.

"W-what is this?" I asked.

"It's a bake sale to help raise money for your parent's bakery," Rose offered, her voice sweeter than sugar.

My mouth dropped. "What?"

Alya and Chloe came over to me, both looking sly and pleased with themselves in their own way.

"You both knew about this?"

"And you almost ruined it by not showing up," Chloe said.

Alya put an arm around my shoulder. "We wanted it to be a surprise."

I choked up, unable to say anything. Finally, I looked out at my classmates, and smiled through the tears. "Thank you. All of you. This was. . . so nice. I d-don't know what to say."

Alya squeezed me tighter. "Love you, girl."

Chloe gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Sorry for yelling at you earlier, but someone had to do something. Adrien was starting to panic-"

"What?"

Alya and Chloe exchanged an "oops" look.

"Adrien?" I prompted.

Alya sighed. "Uh, I guess I should tell you this was all his idea. The rest of us pitched in, of course, because it was an awesome idea. But he came up with it."

 _Oh._

"Like, I know you two have been weird around each other lately, but I think you should work things out," Alya went on. "It's tough enough now that his dad's not letting him come to school."

"Alya," I said, as a warning.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "For goodness sake, Marinette. What is wrong with you two?"

"Nothing," I protested, even though I knew they knew it was a lie.

Alya motioned to Adrien, who was at the opposite end of the table. "Why don't you go over there and tell him thanks, and how hot you think he is?"

"A-Alya!" I squeaked, mortified. Normally a comment like that would have made me blush, but-

My gaze slid to Adrien and our eyes locked. Yeah, okay. I was blushing.

Alya gave me a gentle push. _Go on,_ she mouthed.

I almost tripped and knocked right into a customer. "S-sorry," I murmured. My knees were so weak I thought I would collapse before I made it to the end of the table. I occupied myself by looking over the vast array of home baked goods sitting out. There were a couple of cakes, cookies, fruit tarts, and pink frosted cupcakes that sparkled with sugar sprinkles. I guess those had been Rose's contribution.

Soon enough, I was beginning to run out of table. I wanted to turn right around and explain to Alya and Chloe that Adrien didn't _want_ to talk to me. How I was _terrified_ of what I'd have to say to him if I did.

Then I found myself, listless as I stood in front of him. My heart pounded in my chest, my palms sweating like crazy. I opened my mouth to speak and just stammered a few incoherent words.

He tilted his head, and gave me a smile, even as I saw hurt screaming in his eyes. "Hey, Marinette."

"I. . . wanted to say thank you." I waved a tense hand over the table of goodies. "Alya told me this was your idea."

His gaze dropped to the concrete and he shrugged. "It's the least I could do."

My hands wrung together. "Well, it was really. . . _really_ sweet," I said, my voice breaking.

"Here," he said in a rush, as embarrassment flushed his cheeks.

 _Oops. I'm making him feel awkward._ I swiped at my eyes. _I should never have come over here-_

Adrien pushed a cookie into my hand. Chocolate chip. I stood frozen, my eyes caught on it. Then he leaned closer, hesitant, like he was aware of how close we were, but wanted to tell me something important.

"It's for Tiki," he whispered.

I caught my breath. "T-thank you. I mean, she would thank you. . . if she could." I looked up from the cookie, wading into the green of his eyes. "I know she'll appreciate it."

He nodded, took a step back, then glanced over at the check out.

I don't think that's where his mind was, though.

 _Now, Marinette,_ I told myself. _I have to tell him. I have to tell him how I feel. How I understand he doesn't feel the same way. But how I have to be honest with-_

"Have a lovely day!" Rose called after a customer.

But not here.

"Um," I began, my voice hushed, my mouth dry. "Do you think. . ." I wavered when he turned his attention back to me. He seemed guarded now. Way more than when I first came over here. "Would tonight work for a patrol?"

He turned his face down, and let out the smallest breath, jaw tight. "I guess it's been a while, huh?"

"I just thought-"

"No," he said. "You're right. I can't tonight because I have this promotional thing Father wants me to do."

My heart dropped. "Oh."

"But would Sunday night work?"

"Yes," I said, almost too quickly. "Nine? The Eiffel?"

He gave me another cautious look. "I'll be there."

"Right. Excellent," I said, and stopped myself before I came up with any other synonyms. I took a step back and bumped into yet another customer. "I'm so sorry," I said, and felt self conscious about each step, like he was watching me. Even though when I worked up the nerve to glance at him, he had his back to me.

Sunday. Sunday night I would tell him. Or die of embarrassment. Either way, it was gonna be rough.


	7. Act One: VII

**This will be the final chapter of _Trust Me_. I can't thank you enough for reading my story. It has a very special place in my heart and all of your positive feedback means a lot to me.**

* * *

The sky was dark with clouds. I sat on my couch and watched the coming storm churn as I waited for the clock to draw closer to nine. Anxiety ate at me, and turned my hands shaky.

"So," Plagg said, through a mouthful of Camembert. "I guess you're still not over her."

"Shut it, cheese brain."

"Even after finding out she's Marinette?"

"Enough, Plagg," I said, an edge to my voice. I gave him a heated look. "I didn't ask for your opinion."

He went back to eating.

I slouched into the plush back of the couch, and craned my neck to stare at the ceiling. _Why?_ The thought rang through my mind, until I was about ready to pull my hair out. "Why didn't she tell me sooner?" I asked, louder than I meant to, and unable to keep the question unspoken a second longer.

Plagg sighed. "Oh, I dunno. Maybe she felt weird about it after you told her you were crushing on Ladybug."

I pressed the heels of my hands against my face and groaned. _I can't believe I did that._ I glanced over at my kwami, settled on the other half of the couch, his tiny arms crossed.

He gave me a look of pure exasperation. "What, was she supposed to tell you _then_?"

I turned away in defeat. My eyes landed on the clock hung on the wall. 8:43. I couldn't stand to sit still a moment longer. I rose to my feet, chin up. "Come on, Plagg."

"But Adrien, it looks like rain. Maybe we should stay in-"

" _Claws out!"_

* * *

I sat crouched on a ledge of the Eiffel. I'd concealed myself in shadows, numb to the rain that poured down my back. It was well past nine, yet I didn't move. Only watched, as a lone figure paced back and forth on the tourist deck.

She wore the red and black spots, her hair hung wet, soaked through long ago. She stopped just long enough to cast a look over the rail, then set back to pacing.

We'd been like this for nearly twenty minutes. Still, she waited. Still, I could not move.

My stomach clenched. _Go on. She's waiting for you._

But I felt far more comfortable here, where she couldn't see me. Where I wouldn't have to speak to her, wouldn't have to pretend things were the way they were before. I shut my eyes and dug my claws against metal. _Why didn't you tell me, Marinette?_

The only thing that moved me forward was the knowledge that she'd asked me to be here. That I would be letting her down if I didn't show up. I dropped from my hiding spot to the deck. She didn't hear me over the storm. I didn't move closer, but stayed where I was, well away from her.

I opened my mouth to announce my presence. Nothing came out. I could only watch as she continued to pace, arms hugged to herself, shivering from the cold and the rain.

 _How could I be so blind?_ It shouldn't have surprised me to find that two of the people I admired most in this world, were actually one. Even before I knew, there were times I looked at her and should have seen _her._ I should have seen her long before she told me.

Ladybug reached the end of the deck and spun around to pace the other way, then froze when she saw me. "Oh. There you are."

I hung my head. "Sorry I'm late."

"That's alright. I'm just glad you're here."

Well. She didn't _sound_ glad. Nervous? Yes. Dread? Check and check.

I looked out on the river, the city lights– anything– so long as I didn't have to look at her. "Guess we should get on with it, huh?"

"Yes, well. . . That's not really why I asked you to meet me here."

 _Here it comes._

Could I take one more rejection? Could I really stand here while she stammered out some explanation of how we wouldn't work? How she was sorry?

Was she sorry?

I finally looked at her.

Yeah. She looked sorry alright. When our gazes met, my heart clenched from the pain I saw in her eyes. I nearly stumbled back at the thought that _I_ could have hurt her so. But what had I done to cause this? My mind went whirling, desperate to grab onto something. Anything.

She took a ragged breath. "Chat. . . Is it alright if I call you Adrien?"

"If you'd like." After all, that was my name. But my heart raced at the sound of it.

"Adrien." She wrung her hands together. "I know I've disappointed you. . . I m-mean that it turns out Ladybug is me."

"Mari-"

"No, please." She closed her eyes tight. "I need to tell you. Please, let me get this out."

I waited. Perhaps out of politeness. Or curiosity. Or fear.

"I haven't been honest with you. And not just about the whole alter ego thing." She gave me an anxious look. "I know you might not want to hear this, but I told myself I would tell you the truth from now on."

I took a deep breath. Tried to place my feet firmly on the deck. Anything to help me feel like I could take what she was about to say. But I felt fragile. A word from her could shatter me, I knew.

"I know in the past you've had feelings for me– I mean, for _Ladybug,_ not me," she stammered. "Despite how you might feel now, I need to tell you that. . . you mean so much to me, as Adrien _and_ Chat Noir. You're my friend and my partner and I have to tell you-" Her voice broke. "I need to tell you that I. . ." She wiped at her eyes, unable to go on.

"You're _my_ friend and partner," I said, feeling I should say something. But I stopped myself before something more came out. Before I could tell her what she really meant to me.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know how hard it would be for me to tell you."

My breath caught. Was there a chance she. . . that she could. . .? I instantly clung to that sliver of hope. "Tell me what?"

Her voice came out rough, and shaking. "Tell you that I love you, you stupid cat!"

I blinked. Stunned.

She looked at me as tears streamed down her face. "I didn't tell you I was Ladybug, because I was afraid of you seeing me without my mask. That you would see I'm only me."

I took a step forward. "Mari. . ."

"I'm sorry if that isn't enough for you," she said, with a bitterness that sounded as if she'd held onto this for too long, that it had imprisoned her. "I'm sorry if I'm not enough."

"Don't ever say that." My eyes sharpened. "Don't ever think that."

I took another step, and another, until the space between us was gone. I took her hands in mine, lifted them to my lips, and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. "You," I said firmly, "are so brave and kind and _stunning._ Don't ever think that you are not enough. I think the world of you." I pulled her hand close to me, to my heart. "You _are_ my world."

Plagg would hang those words over my head for weeks, I knew. They may be cliché, but I meant them. Did she know? Could she see that I meant them? She'd had such an impact on my life. Without her, I wouldn't be _me._

"I've not been honest with you either," I went on. "I thought I was sparing you by keeping my distance. I thought I was sparing me."

She stared at our hands, face troubled, but she didn't pull away. "You're not angry with me?"

"I was."

She turned away, head ducked. "I'm so _sorry_."

"I was hurt that you'd kept it a secret from me." My voice quieted, raw and vulnerable."But I was mostly afraid of being rejected again. . . If I were to tell you my feelings haven't changed." My hands shook even as they tightened around her own. "It's _you,_ Mari. You're my Ladybug."

Her hand knocked against my bell as she reached up, hands in my hair, tugging me down. Our teeth bumped when she pressed her lips to mine. We both pulled away, grimacing in pain. "I'm s-so sorry!" she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot. A clumsy idiot-"

"It's okay." I cupped her face in my hands, thumbs rested along the very edge of her mask. "We'll just try again. Okay?"

Her face turned a deep red that would rival any blush, even _her_ vast history of blushes. "Okay."

I never knew I could feel so perfectly happy and so utterly nervous in a single moment. I placed a kiss on her lips, taking care to be soft, to be gentle. Our skin was cold, nearly numb from the rain. Even so, my heart raced, my mind went fuzzy. I wrapped my arms around her waist, wanted her closer, and never wanted to let go.

"Oh crap," she said, and ripped from my grasp.

"What's wrong?"

Marinette began pacing again. "How are we going to explain this to Alya? And all the gossips in Paris think you and I are dating– as Ladybug and Adrien– but don't you think she'll get suspicious? What are we going to do?"

I smiled, despite the worry on her face. "So what if she's suspicious?"

She threw her arms up. "Because I can't hide anything from that girl. She's a freaking mind reader and you know I crack under pressure. She'll see through me in a second!"

I couldn't help but laugh.

She shot me a glare and crossed her arms. "This is a serious." She set back to pacing. "What are we going to do?"

I reached out to catch her by the arm as she strode past me, brought her to a stop, and gave her a gentle look. "Don't worry about it. We'll be fine. I know it seems like a lot to handle, but we can do it, right?"

Her head drooped, coming to rest against the hollow between my chest and arm, beneath my shoulder. "Can we?"

The butterflies erupted in my stomach. She was so cute, I almost couldn't bare to look at her. I swallowed, heart racing as I lifted my hand to stroke her hair.

"We're Ladybug and Chat Noir," I said, and the smile on my face leaked into my voice. "We're an unstoppable team. You said that, right?"

"Mmph."

"I know we're. . . complicated." I paused, and felt her still as she listened closely. "I won't say it will be easy. But we have each other. I'll watch your back. You'll watch mine. Partners, right?"

She wrapped her arms around me, in an embrace I swear felt like home. "Partners."

* * *

My bedroom was covered in sunlight and shadow from the morning light that filtered through the windows. As always, the house was full of a heavy silence. All that changed with a knock at my door.

"Duuude?" Nino called, then knocked again. "You order pizza?"

I rushed across the room, and my socks skid against the floorboards. I nearly slipped and fell, but caught myself. I threw the door open and pulled him inside so fast he nearly dropped the cardboard box he had balanced in one hand.

"Whoa, bro. What-" he stopped short when he saw me. Nino gave me a look of confusion, then slight amusement. "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"I need your help." I turned back to my bed, where a pile of options lay spread across the duvet. "I don't know what to wear."

Nino shook his head and laughed. "Are you like this every morning?"

". . . No. Of course not." I cleared my throat. "Now-"

"What is it, then?" Nino raised an eyebrow. "We're just playing video games, right? It's not like the paparazzi can get into your own house." He cast a suspicious glance out into the hall before closing the door. "Right?"

"Nino, this is serious. Mari is coming over and _she'll be here any minute."_

He stroked his chin. "I see."

I looked at him in a panic. "I'm so sorry! I totally forgot to tell you." I followed him closely as he crossed my room and set the pizza box on the coffee table. "Is it alright if she hangs out with us?"

"Duh, bro."

I let out a sigh of relief. "You don't mind?"

Nino being Nino, it was hard to tell if he was angry or not. He only shrugged. "Nah. We'll have to share the pizza though. . . Do you think 'Nette likes pineapple?"

I grinned. "You're the greatest friend a guy could ask for."

He held up a hand. "Please, hold your applause." He pulled out his phone and dialed Alya's number. "Guess there's no point in having a tournament now. We both know who'd win that. But we can just chill."

"What are you doing?"

"Inviting Alya." He put on a goofy smile. "But you better put on some clothes before she gets here."

I grabbed a shirt in each hand and held them up. "Which one?"

He considered them thoughtfully. "The green matches your eyes?"

I inspected it doubtfully. "Is a tee shirt too casual, though?"

"Hey, Alya," Nino said, his attention now torn from me. "Are you busy? Adrien invited Marinette to our Mecha tournament so I thought I'd let you know. . ." He looked back at me. "Wait, why would you need to dress up for Marinette?"

 _Um. . ._

Before I could answer, there was another knock. "Hello? It's Marinette. You guys in there?"

I scrambled to gather the pile of clothing off my bed, then raced across the room, socks slipping again. "I'll be out in a minute. Can you get the door?"

Nino sighed. "Sure. But if I'm gonna be your butler, I should get paid."

"Thanks, Nino," I said, with relief, before shutting myself in the bathroom. I couldn't help but linger by the door, and listen as he let Marinette in.

"Oh, hello, Nino."

I dropped the armful of clothes.

"Yo."

I tugged the tee shirt over my head, and glanced in the mirror to carefully straighten any mussed hair into place.

"I can't wait to try out the new mechs. I'm so excited!" she said, sunshine incarnate.

I gripped the edge of the marbled counter, a familiar pang in my stomach. _Stupid butterflies._ What if this went really awkward? What if I said something stupid? What if I messed up, like _big time_ messed up? I'd never felt this way about someone before. I didn't know how to act, what to say.

Plagg flitted around me, a smug look on his face, as if he enjoyed seeing me suffer. "Hey, Adrien?"

"What?" I whispered.

"Can I be your best man at the wedding?"

I nearly choked. "Plagg, listen-"

"I'm teasing. Of course." He fixed me with a serious look. "Relax, kid."

I decided to forgive him for teasing me. Though I would be dishonest if I said he hadn't sent me further into my spiral of nerves. I cast another look into the mirror and shook my head. I met my kwami's green gaze through the reflection, and narrowed my eyes. "Just stay hidden, alright?"

"I'm the least of your worries right now."

I'm not sure if he was quite right, but I quickly forgot about him as I stepped out of the bathroom. When I saw her, when she saw me, and her eyes lit up, it was like she brightened the whole room.

"Hey, Adrien," she said, her voice soft and shy and sweet.

"Hey, clumsy girl." I came to her side, and savored the smile on her face, the way her cheeks reddened when our hands barely brushed. She eased half a step away from me, and glanced nervously at Nino. Although he didn't seem to notice.

"So is Alya coming over?" I asked, though it was difficult to tear my gaze away from her.

"Yeah, she said she'd be here in a little bit. She's out taking pictures for this article she's planning for her blog." He moved toward the couch. "Hey, 'Nette there's pizza if you'd like some. Better get it while it's hot."

"Oh, no thanks." She glanced at me and her voice quieted. "I don't think I could eat anything."

It made me feel better somehow, knowing she was as nervous as me. That we were in this together. "I think I'll pass too."

Nino took a second piece. "Your loss. Pineapple pizza is one of life's great gifts, you know."

Marinette giggled behind her hand. "You say that about a lot of things, Nino."

He winked. "And I always mean it. Hey, Adrien and I were gonna have a Mecha tournament if you wanna join in. You two can go at it first."

I tried to act casual as I settled into the couch beside him, as Mari sat next to me. Playing the game was good. It made things feel more normal, and Mari was always fun to play against. Even if she crushed me every time.

We were playing best out of three, and when she won the final round, she fixed me with a smug look. "Better luck next time, Agreste."

Next she went up against Nino, who was so absorbed in the game, he was oblivious to the two dorks sitting beside him. We kept sneaking glances at each other, smiles etched onto our faces. _Would it be too much to put my arm around her? To sit a little closer?_

"Level four, yes!" She pumped her fist in the air.

Nino shook his head. "I'm doomed."

I finally worked up the courage to brush the back of my hand along her arm. Nino's attention was solely focused on the game, so he didn't see how Mari startled and nearly dropped her controller. She was so flustered she didn't recover in time to block his attack. The blow crushed her mech.

There was absolute silence as their scores updated, and Nino slid to the top spot.

He set his controller down, and looked over in confusion. "I don't get it."

Mari forced a smile. "Wow, Nino. Have you been practicing?"

"Well. . . maybe a little, but. . . you could have blocked that easy."

"Oh, no. It was a great move," she said, and sounded less certain. "Good job?"

I snickered. "Too bad, Mari. Looks like we have a new Mecha Strike champion."

Her eyes slid to me, sparks catching in them. "Maybe he had a little help from a certain black cat."

"But black cats are bad luck." I inched closer. "Remember?"

Her eyes softened as she looked at me. "I don't believe in superstitions."

"Says the girl with a pair of lucky socks," Alya said, from the doorway.

Mari's face flushed. "Oh, hi, Alya. . ."

"Hey!" Nino got to his feet and held out the pizza box. "You want some? These losers are passing up the chance to have some of the best pineapple pizza you'll ever taste."

Alya eagerly went over to get a piece. "More for us, right?" She glanced at the screen. "Wow, Nino. You beat Marinette?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

Alya looked over at Mari, who was running a finger along the seam of the couch cushion. "Losing your touch, girl?"

Mari stuffed her face into her hands. "I will rise from the ashes of my defeat."

I pat her on the back, and luckily she didn't jump three feet in the air. "You'll get him next time. Would watching a movie help you feel better?"

"Please," Alya said between bites. "I don't wanna sit here for two hours watching you geeks play video games."

I waved toward the shelves that lined the upper part of my room. "I have lots to choose from."

Nino and Alya were already moving toward the stairs. I stood up to follow, but Mari grabbed my hand and yanked me back down.

"Did you tell him?" she whispered.

I shook my head. "Did you tell Alya?"

Worry creased her face. "No. . . I-I don't know. You think we should?"

It was painful, really. Having to just sit there when she looked so cute. I edged closer, an intent look on my face. "Maybe we won't have to."

A blush completely flooded her cheeks. "Adrien, what are you doing?" she hissed, and slid back until she'd reached the very edge of the couch.

"I was going to kiss you."

She braced a hand against my chest, and pushed me to arm's length. "You can't do that."

I grinned. "Why not? You don't want me to?"

"No! I m-mean, of course I d-do. . . but you can't now," she said, and cast an anxious look up at our friends. "They'll see."

"I know." I leaned in closer, till her hair brushed my forehead, till I could feel her breath on my skin. This time she didn't move away. "They're bound to know sooner or later, Mari. They're our friends."

She bit her lip. "I know."

"Good." I took her hand in mine. "May I kiss you now?"

She covered her face with her free hand, her face growing redder by the second. "You're terrible, you know that?"

I lifted the hand I held, and pressed a kiss into her palm. "And you're wonderful."

" _No."_

I turned around to see Nino frozen at the bottom of the stairs, movie in hand, his eyes wide.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Alya bet me 20 you two would start dating within the next week." He pulled out his wallet, a dark look on his face. "Way to have my back, dude."

Alya crossed her arms, and couldn't have looked more smug. "I knew it."

Marinette pulled her hand away from me. "Well, technically we aren't dating."

I nearly choked. "What?"

She folded her hands in her lap, and batted her eyelashes. "We've only been out on 'not a date' dates, remember?"

Nino's face brightened with a look of hope.

"I see." I reached over to brush some hair away from her face, her blue eyes wide and shy and beautiful. "Marinette?"

"Yeah," she said, barely above a whisper.

"Take your money," Nino said in defeat.

"Would you go out me?" I asked her. "On a real date this time?"

She nodded, and I felt we were both holding our breath. "I will."

I couldn't hold back the urge to kiss her. To take in the scent of her, to taste her lip gloss. I smiled and pulled away. Of course she'd wear strawberry.

Nino set the movie on the table, and exchanged it for the pizza. "Maybe I should go."

"N-no, Nino!" Mari shoved me back into the couch's plush pillows. "Please, stay."

Alya smirked. "But we wouldn't want to interrupt you two lovebugs."

Mari's face turned ghostly. "Alya-"

I snaked my arms around her waist, and pulled her closer. "Is that what we are?"

She shook her head. "Don't you start too. You two get your butts over here so we can watch that movie. You're not interrupting anything."

"But I was having so much fun kissing you," I said into her shoulder.

She froze, and for a moment I thought she might faint from embarrassment. I was on the verge of apologizing, when she took hold of my shoulders and pinned me to the back of the couch, brushed her lips against mine, then deepened the kiss, leaving me breathless.

I pulled away for a desperate breath, then whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. "Cat got your tongue-"

She shot up and off the couch. "Adrien! I swear, if you don't stop with the cat puns, I will-" She froze when she realized Nino and Alya were still there, hurriedly gathering their things. At least she hadn't slipped up and called me Chat Noir. That would have been embarrassing.

"See ya," Alya said, and slipped out the door.

Mari ran a nervous hand through one of her pigtails. "This isn't necessary, you guys."

Nino paused, his hand on the doorknob. He gave her a steady look. "Take good care of him, Mari. He's a good friend."

She looked at me, then back to him and nodded. "I will. I know he is."

Nino gave her a softer look, then glanced at me. "I'm stoked for you guys, really."

"Thanks, Nino," I said.

There was a moment of quiet, of stillness after that door closed. I finally got to my feet, a little scared of going over to her.

Her hands fidgeted together, fingers shaky. "So I guess they know now, huh?"

"You still think Alya will figure it out?" I asked, careful.

"I guess we'll see," Mari said, and shook her head. "I'm just. . . scared, Adrien."

I put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, knowing this weighed heavy on her. She sounded every bit as anxious about this as she had last night. The gesture turned into a near hug when she leaned into me, my arm around her, her head resting in the hollow of my shoulder.

It felt more natural than I expected it to. Even as silence wrapped around us, it felt nice. So nice, I didn't want it to end.

I was well aware I had much to discover about her. It was exciting, really. And taking her out on a date would be a step in the right direction. Though I suspected Mari would always be a bit of a puzzle, a bit of a mystery to me.

"I'm glad I was hit over the head and ended up on your balcony half conscious."

She laughed. "Don't say that."

I cast a faraway look out the window, at the skyline and the silhouette of the Eiffel. "Just think what might have happened if I hadn't."

"Hm." She leaned further into me, tilted her head back so she could look right up at me. "Let's not."

I smiled. "Yeah. You're right."

 _La Fin_

* * *

 **Announcement time! I will be continuing with a sequel titled** ** _When We Fall_. I have most of it outlined and a very rough draft of the first two chapters. I'm not sure how long it will take for me to complete it (I'll have finished drafting before I begin to post it) because the holidays are approaching fast and the beginning of this year is going to be sort of a crazy busy one for me with school stuff.**

 **I also have a completed Christmas mlb fic you can check out if you'd like.**

 **You're welcome to follow me to stay in the loop for my future projects. *shrugs cause I'm awkward and don't know how to plug***

 **Thank you for all your support! xoxo**


	8. Act Two: I

_A/N: I meant to release in October, but a new job on top of studies and moving put me behind schedule. Updates may be slow but hopefully steady. For now I'll aim to update on Mondays. I won't complain if you don't._ 😉

 _And now, I present the sequel to Trust Me. . ._

 **When We Fall**

The sun stretched over the rooftops of Paris, to wrap it in the golden light that stays for just a few moments each morning. The stark brick of the Agreste building loomed above those that surrounded it, enough to catch that light, and cast a cool shadow across half the block. Subtle was hardly in Gabriel Agreste's vocabulary, and this was clear by the very exterior. It would have been a picture of success, of serenity, or security. Except for one thing.

People flooded through the front doors. This wasn't morning rush traffic. They were running _away._ The hoard pushed for the sidewalk in a panic rarely caused by anything other than an akuma. I hooked my yoyo on a fixture of the building and swung til my feet ghosted across cement. I retracted my yoyo and landed running. The stream of pedestrians parted around me, as if I were a force mighty enough to part the waters. Some spared me looks, full of wonder or admiration. Most kept on, as if the leviathan might be right at their heels.

I could only imagine what poor creature Hawkmoth had possessed this time. Surely, he'd run out of ideas someday. Though today didn't seem to be that day. Though a place like this, full of deadlines, egos, and ladders as tall as the Eiffel, I wasn't surprised when Adrien shot me a warning text of a seamstress that had been ridiculed by coworkers, and swayed by Hawkmoth's influence.

A bit of fear knotted in my stomach. Like most days, Adrien was here. Such was the life of a model and the face of a fashion king's industry. Maybe it was silly to worry. Chat Noir could take care of himself. Another day, another akuma. But what if he'd gotten caught in the fight before he could transform? What if he'd done something stupid and heroic, and I wasn't there to stop him?

I caught my breath as I entered the massive lobby. A woman bumped into me, sending the prints from her briefcase scattered against the tile. "Sorry." I cringed, and knelt to pick them up, though when I held them out, there was no one there. "Excuse me," I asked another employee. "Have you seen Chat Noir?"

They tossed me a "no, sorry Ladybug!" before disappearing through the glass doors onto the street.

The trickle of a fountain mingled with the sort of unending echo that came with walls and floors of marble. By design, the scarlet seating and choice of paintings set the room on edge. It was hard lines, rich colors, and eerily empty. Not another soul passed me by as I drifted further into the halls.

My yoyo opened with a snap. I nibbled at my bottom lip as I waited for Chat to pick up my call. _Where is that cat?_

"Ah, sew there you are, My Lady," said hero purred. "Cutting it a little close, aren't we?"

I attempted to disguise the sigh of relief that left me as one of exasperation. Perhaps he wouldn't notice the difference. "Where are you?"

"Fourth floor." He spared me a look, that all familiar mischief glittering in his unearthly green eyes. "You know, you're cute as a button when you're worried about me."

I tapped up for the lift, and the doors slid open. "I'm beginning to see more and more similarities between your puns and Plagg's cheese."

His ears flattened. "Really?"

"Yeah." I stepped in and watched as the floor number rose, but managed a snappy delivery despite the distraction. "I can smell them from a mile away."

"I thought you were going to say they stink."

"Nothing else could stink _that_ bad." The lift gave a gentle chime to announce its arrival, the same moment a crash sounded on his end. The view behind him went spinning. "Chat, be careful!"

The lift doors parted in time for me to see his collision with the wall. He landed with a dull thud onto the slate tile. "I'm always careful, Lady Luck." He offered a smirk through gritted teeth, and favored his shoulder as he picked himself off the floor.

I hung up the call and put a hand to my hip, taking the scene in with a steel gaze. "I think the word you're looking for is _reckless."_ I moved closer, tone softened by the way he gave his arm an appraising touch. "Are you hurt?"

His hand came to ruffle through the back of his hair and gave me a smile that bordered on shy. It hung longer than it used to, and more wild, even to the point where it could obscure his eyes from me. "It's nothing I'll need stitches for." _That cat and his puns._ "Watch out!" His arms caught around my waist as he dove forward, driving us both onto the cool tile. We were only moments ahead of the fabric that shot out and plastered over the wall where we'd been standing.

"They said my designs didn't cut it!" More cloth, shimmering and of all different, vibrant colors of the rainbow appeared and snaked through the hall. Much like a magician's handkerchief, it went on and on. "But no one has my abilities. I can create anything from thin air. Not even Gabriel Agreste can compete with me now." I lifted my chin, even as Chat took my hand to help me to my feet. A woman outfitted in a colorful dress and extravagant jewels stretched out a gloved hand. A spidery glow emitted from her palm, before another stream of silk wove itself into existence, and flew toward us.

"I think it's time we put an end to this little scrap of ours, _La Tisser,"_ Chat Noir bat the stream of silk with his baton, and it spilled into the still open lift behind us. He moved closer to whisper something in my ear. "I was there when they criticized her work. I'm pretty sure the akuma went into her scarf."

Apparently, La Tisser didn't get the memo we were having a hero huddle. "It's time for your final fitting!"

In our moment of distraction, before either of us could dodge, a stream of crimson advanced. It enveloped me, binding my fists against my sides, ankle to ankle. Chat's arm also got caught and we ended up wound together, my nose buried in the black of his suit. We both strained to be free, but the cloth only tightened until we couldn't struggle at all, and breaths came short and tight.

"There. The perfect fit," Tisser trilled. She rolled our cocoon through the lift doors, and pressed the button to the lobby. As the doors slid shut, a neon violet framed her features. "I've no need for jewelry," she said, apparently to Hawkmoth. "Not when I can create any accessory I want!"

Her puppeteer was no doubt would correct her misdirection. But before that could happen, the doors slid shut and we began to drift downward.

I let out a great huff, my line of sight largely limited to leather and the zipper down the front of his suit. "Can you get us out of this?"

His hands tightened at the small of my back, till I felt the graze of claws. "Have you ever wondered if it would work on our suits? Like, if Hawkmoth has a miraculous suit, would it even work on him?"

"The first floor is coming fast, kitty."

There was silence, then he took a deep breath. His wrist twisted around, to pry his right hand away from my suit. _"Cataclysm."_

I'd never been in such proximity to this power, this energy before. It was like ice at my back, like a rush of something electric and poisonous and barely contained. The strands of fabric snapped from red to black, then dissipated. We both relaxed against the floor of the lift, perfectly free.

Chat's hand came back around me, to tug me a bit closer. He nuzzled against my nose, gaze equally serene and untamed. "Don't ever let me find out."

"Adr–"

"It's not a joke." Something darker flickered in his eyes as he looked at me. "Promise?"

"I don't need to," I hummed. "You wouldn't. Not even to Hawkmoth." I blinked. "Right?"

It was then the bell chimed, stealing the hushed moment. Chat was on his feet in an instant. He took a step back into the empty lobby. "I'll catch up with you after I fuel Plagg back up." A long arm reached over to press four. He managed to sneak in a signature wink and salute just before the lift doors closed once again. "I have every faith in you, bugaboo."

* * *

The hall was empty, save a few leafy plants and closed doors. The quiet that always comes after a battle pressed against me. The adrenaline still flowed, and I was all the more aware of it now that I stood still. All my senses were heightened from taking down Tisser, so I nearly jumped out of my suit at the sound of soft footfalls behind me. I whirled around, hand tight at my heart as it battered at my chest, threatening jump ship and leave me to fend for myself. The traitor.

Of course it had to be him. There he was, my sweet, dumb kitty. Only he'd transformed, no longer armored up for battle. He may as well have had "model" tattooed over his wrists, his face, every inch of exposed skin. With his hair pristine and golden in the soft morning light. Clothes tucked and folded just so. All the result of a flock of fussy stylists. He wore black jeans, a blazer, and a wine red shirt buttoned to where his collar bone peaked underneath it all. Shoulders straight, head tilted just so. If only the cameras could see him now.

"Wow." He took the words right out of my mouth. Honestly, he was doing little to help calm my heart rate. His eyes glinted with that familiar mischief, though his expression seemed rather earnest. Some mix of timid and awe. "Ladybug?"

"H-hey."

"Hey."

The silence filled with the _thump thump_ of my traitorous heart, and my eyes flew to the clock perched on the wall. Precious seconds ticked by. I finally turned away, only to tip my face back to him. "I should really go."

His hand slipped from the pocket of his jeans to give a careful gesture toward me. "But you still have three spots left." He closed the space between us, a hand hovering at my waist before he wrapped an arm, strong enough without the suit, around me. "It would be a shame to waste them."

"Adrien, don't." Though my voice betrayed me, to sound much less stern than I'd wanted.

"Don't what?"

"Do _that."_

But I had put my guard up much too late. His hair swooped to brush against my cheek as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss into my neck, in the hollow just under my ear and jaw. The warmth sent a shiver along my spine, where his fingers had splayed on my lower back.

I shrugged free of his hold. "The bakery is supposed to open in five minutes."

He caught my hand, even as I pulled further and further away. "C'mon, Bugaboo. Don't ruin the moment."

"There is no moment." Another step back. "I'm leaving."

"Hm." He smirked, a sight I now knew was not entirely out of character for this dear, sweet gremlin of mine. I wondered how I ever looked into those green eyes and saw mere charm and innocence. "You're still here."

I floundered for a snappy comeback, and he took the opportunity to reach out to me and cup my face in his hands. He brushed thumbs over the very edge of my mask before pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You sure were brave out there."

"Adrien," I hissed, as my cheeks warmed under my mask. "Someone will see."

"We're alone," he whispered into my hair. Then he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on my lips. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No. . ." I felt myself drawn after him as he parted, though I stopped myself. I could just hear Tiki now. _"You can't let that sneaky cat distract you! You have a lot of responsibility, even besides saving the city."_ It was then that my earrings gave a chirp, as if to confirm the urgency and need to go.

"You're right." His grip tightened on my hands, as if to contradict the very words he spoke. "You should go. People will worry if I don't turn up soon." He gave me a smile. "So. We're still on for Saturday?"

"Oh, we'll see."

"Lady–"

I fondly booped his nose, stunning him to silence. I took off down the hall without another look, feeling every bit like Cinderella escaping the ball before I turned into a pumpkin. It tore at a corner of my heart a bit, to leave my poor prince behind. Though I broke into a grin as I leaped from a convenient window into fresh air. At least I had something sweet old Cinderella hadn't. I had superpowers.

A spatter of raindrops fell on my face as I crossed Rue de Design. The sun still shone, but fresh violet clouds peppered the horizon. I chose to ignore it, and assured myself it would not stay. Today would be a beautiful, sunny day.

* * *

The Boulangerie Patisserie was a haze of sweet smells. I drummed fingers against the counter, staring dully at the cash register. It was quiet, aside from the hum of the air unit and its futile attempt to keep up with the heat swelling from the ovens and the humid day beyond the shop windows. The sole customer stooped to inspect the various baked goods. Madam Clément was a regular, and always took her sweet time deciding what she wanted. While she wasn't the cheeriest of persons, I found the elderly woman's wit and honesty endearing. I said nothing to rush her, as always.

My head still felt swamped, stuck in guilt. Being a super hero is a lot of work, I know, but on top of that, I'd agreed to spend summer break working part time at my parent's bakery. They thought it would give me some cash, as well as the opportunity to gain some more responsibility. I knew the bakery was important to them. It was their dream. And after the fire earlier this spring, it was almost a miracle all over again to have the place.

I'd agreed. I'd thought I could handle both obligations.

This morning when I returned from Gabriel's, a good ten minutes late, Papa had been back with the ovens, and poor Mama had to hurry to stock the cases by herself. She'd run late for her pottery class just to cover for me. I'd offered a lame excuse. That I'd gone for a walk and underestimated how long it would take me to get back. I was out of breath enough when I reached the door that I think she'd believed me. I almost felt worse for the untruth.

But that was the cost, right? My parents couldn't know their clumsy, shy daughter was a heroine swinging around in a red suit at Hawkmoth's beck and call. They'd worry. They'd fret. And I'd break if my irresponsibility ever put them in danger.

The door burst open, and the bell rang its greeting. I looked to see Alya, standing, hand gripped on the handle, her face ghostly, eyes wide. And she just _stood_ there.

My hand latched onto the edge of the counter, as if to steady myself, even before I knew anything had happened. But something must have happened. "What's wrong?"

She let go of the door and it swung shut, then walked closer, phone clasped against her chest. "Marinette, I need you to be strong."

"Strong?"

Madam Clément didn't disguise her interest. Her gray eyes squinted in concern, pastry selection forgotten for now.

"You haven't seen the news," Alya said between deep breaths.

Not _now._ Not _again._ Didn't Hawkmoth understand Ladybug and Chat Noir didn't have time to fight troubled people turned akuma all day _everyday?_ It simply got exhausting. "Another akuma? News? What's wrong?"

Without a word, she offered out her phone. My hands clasped numbly around it, Ladybug charm a familiar presence as it brushed against my knuckles. I didn't understand until I looked down and I watched. I watched as Paris' spotted hero and my boyfriend acted extremely familiar with each other. As he kissed the top of her head, then pressed a kiss to her lips.

The phone slipped through slack hands to the floor. I stared at nothing, eyes glazed.

Alya took hold of my shoulders and shook lightly. "Marinette?"

Of course it had been me that Adrien kissed. I was Ladybug. I'd been right there, in that very hallway. It hadn't been that long ago, even. Just this morning. I remembered it clear as the blue in Tiki's eyes.

Problem was, no one else knew that. Alya sure didn't.

And it was out _already?_ That fast? Had they no sense of privacy? What if the footage got around to Hawkmoth? _Oh my gosh!_ Fresh fear seized my spine, my lungs. _Everything._ I wouldn't let anyone hurt him because of this. I'd squish any gutless jellyfish that so much as breathed on him.

"I–" I blinked. "It. . ."

Alya barreled into me with a hug so tight I couldn't breathe. Or perhaps that was the shock. "I'm so sorry, girl. I didn't want to be the one to tell you, but you had to find out sooner or later."

The shop door rang again. I assumed it another customer, though one would think I was the conduit of the god of destruction, such was my luck. I swore from then on, never to let my kwami out of my sight if it would keep such perfect disasters from my future.

I saw him before Alya did. Maybe I could blame the poor timing on him, seeing as he was the literal master of said bad luck. Adrien froze when he saw the blogger, panic clear on his face. "Uh oh."

There was barely a second that passed before she turned her head, and it registered. "YOU ABSOLUTE JERK," she shrieked. She slammed a hand on the counter. "Get out!"

I grappled for her hand to pull her back. "Alya, please–"

"I'll handle him. Don't you dare try and stop me."

"Alya!"

"Maybe I should go." Adrien took a step back, face growing rapidly paler. "I didn't really want those eclairs anyway. . ."

"YOU'RE DEAD AGRESTE."

My reflexes had grown stronger since becoming Ladybug, but I didn't react fast enough to stop what she did next. Alya took hold of an obliging pie and chucked it across the shop. Adrien ducked, and it landed against the door frame, to leave behind a mess of peaches and syrup.

"Alya!?" I gaped. "I have a customer!"

"YOUR OFFSRPING WILL FEAR MY NAME."

Madam Clément clutched at her heart, brow knit together in a furious expression. "Young Lady, this is no way to behave."

She took of running. "Well neither is CHEATING ON MY BEST FRIEND."

Adrien needed no further incentive to scramble out the door. I stood, too stunned to move, to speak, to say anything. I saw Adrien zip past the front shop windows, Alya just a fraction behind. He'd outrun her, I had no doubt, but her fury was enough to fuel her for a few blocks at least.

"Ahem."

I turned, face flushed cherry red. "I'm so sorry, Madam. Would you. . . like a free piece of pie?"

The woman huffed. "Peach pie?"

I looked at the mess Alya had wrought, and swallowed hard. "No, no. Of course not."

"Young lady," Madam Clément said. "Did that boy really cheat on you?"

I blanched. "I-I, uh, h-he. . . We just. . . Maybe?"

She set her mouth. "Hm. I should have thrown a pie at him too."

I shot another glance out the window, unsure of whether to laugh or to cry.

Madam Clément didn't seem any worse for wear. One of her dainty, wrinkled fingers tapped at the glass above an assortment of colorful petit fours. "I'll take two of those, please."

* * *

Time did little to dull the shock. Hours passed, and I drifted upstairs for a lunch break. Papa and Mama spent most of the insurance money to get the bakery back on its feet, so the house floors of our apartment were still largely under reconstruction. While the floor was covered in plastic, furniture protected by sheets, paint cans and a fresh coat of lavender drying on the walls, I was too wound up in my own head to take much notice of my surroundings. I didn't notice the furry creature slip from behind a stack of cardboard box until it was too late, and he was underfoot. I tripped, but managed to catch myself against the couch's arm.

"Morte." I whimpered at the pain that flared in my knee, where it had struck the sofa's wooden skeleton. "Are you trying to cripple me?"

The terrier swished his little tail back and forth as his brown eyes practically beamed up at me. An attitude that clearly said his intentions couldn't be further from such ill will.

I sighed, and with great effort heaved back onto my own feet. The hunger in my belly, while noticeable, was caged by my still shocked state. I moved through the kitchen, only giving absent thought to food. Instinct pulled me to the fridge, where I found yogurt, and I tucked a banana and package of graham crackers under my arm.

The kitchen's counter was a mess of unpacked dishes and paint rollers left out to dry, and a shipment of pastry boxes for the bakery. I opted to eat in my room, maybe catch an episode of an anime Adrien got me hooked on or do some sketching in my sketchbook. Morte nearly tripped me twice before I reached the trapdoor to the next floor. He pawed at the last step and a growl rose in his throat.

A sense of reality resurfaced, and I froze. "What is it, boy?"

His little body shook with the intensity of another growl.

Slowly, I raised the trapdoor. What sort of burglar would break into the apartment above a bakery? Would Hawkmoth dare strike again? Had he found out my identity somehow? Very much without permission, flashes of images of akumas swirling in my room surfaced. I shivered at the very idea. I stepped up into my room, hands curled tightly around the bowl of yogurt. Morte broke past me, barking and yapping. He made such a ruckus, he startled awake the real culprit. . . a cat napping Adrien.

The boy startled up from the chaise lounge. "What!?"

Morte circled the piece of furniture, sniffing and growling as he went.

Adrien's gaze snapped to me, eyes wide. "Mari!"

I set the food on my desk and put a hand to my hip. "What?"

"A little help?"

I covered a chuckle with a hand. "He's not going to hurt you."

Adrien pointed an accusing finger at the dog, only for it to bark again. "Try telling _him_ that."

I crouched and held out my hands, motioning to Morte. "Here, boy. Leave the poor kitty alone. I don't think he wants to play with you."

Once the little terrier was at a safe distance, Adrien allowed his feet to lower to the floor. "Since when do you have a dog?"

"Since Juleka's family left on vacation yesterday." I scooped Morte into my arms and nuzzled him. "I'm dogsitting."

"Why didn't Rose?"

"She would have." I crossed the room and settled beside him. Morte curled contentedly in my lap, but his watchful eyes never left our strange guest. "But her dad's allergic."

Adrien's nose wrinkled. "I think I might be allergic too."

"You're not an animal lover? That's surprising, considering your situation with the suit and all."

"Well I wouldn't really know." He shied when Morte began sniffing at his sleeve. "Closest thing I've ever had to a pet was when Chloe had a fish for a week when we were nine."

"Well," I murmured, as I absently scratched behind the terrier's ears, my mind drifting toward some gentle, distant dream from the future. "If you don't like dogs, I guess we won't have any."

". . . What did you just say?"

"Uh." My grip on the dog grew tighter, as if it could offer some protection through this dangerous new _terrior_ tory. "Y'know. Mama and Papa have talked about getting a pet someday." It came out just the way it was. A weak excuse. Of course there were times when I allowed myself to dream of the future. _Our_ future. What it could be like to spend a life with him. But he didn't need to know that. We were only sixteen. I shook my head. "It's nothing, though."

"Mari–"

"I swear I didn't say _anything,_ Adrien. Just forget _everything."_

He took hold of my hands. "Mari, we need to talk."

I wound in on myself, body curled around Morte, face hid securely behind arms. I tucked my nose between my knees and let out a mortified groan. My Kitty knew me well enough to see right through me. He knew what I'd meant. "Why do I always say the stupidest things?"

There was quiet for a moment, then his grip on my hands tightened. "Mari, you don't always say stupid things."

"But I do sometimes?"

". . . No, of course not."

"You're lying."

"Mari, look at me, please."

I groaned.

"We don't have time for this." He stood, and I heard him pace across the room and back again. "We have a serious problem."

I finally lifted my head, and set my chin on my knee. "How long have you been here?"

"A few hours, actually. I hope you don't mind." It was his turn to look sheepish. "I had to call Master Fu because I didn't feel like making it to my Mandarin lesson this afternoon. When he found out what happened. . . I think he understood. He said he'd even cover for me, if anyone asked about it."

"So while I've been freaking out downstairs, contemplating whether my best friend is truly capable of homicide, you've spent the better part of the day napping?"

"We have a serious problem on our hands. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Ah." I rolled my eyes. "I forgot. Sleep is the answer to all of life's problems." He ran a hand through his hair, thoroughly panicked. I could tell because not a pun had slipped from his mouth since my arrival. I dropped the teasing from my tone. "Adrien, what happened, _we_ know it wasn't wrong."

"Yes it _was."_ His arms flew out for emphasis. "I shouldn't have kissed you because now your secret identity is at risk."

"It was just as much my fault as yours." My voice grew hushed as he came closer to kneel on the floor in front of me, still listening intently. "As long as we don't tell anyone, our identities are still safe."

"But you're my girlfriend. I shouldn't have to be afraid to kiss you, just because someone might see. Because of what people would think."

I reached down to stroke his head, to run a hand through his golden hair. It had mussed during his nap, more Chat than anything. Secretly, I was glad he'd ignored all his Father's pestering to get it cut. It suited him this way.

"Adrien, we knew what we were jumping into when this began. I knew it wouldn't be easy just because we loved each other. Being a super hero comes with a lot of responsibility."

He gaze shot sideways, a trouble expression taking hold. "So what's this mean for us?" His eyes slid back to mine. "You've already made up your mind, haven't you?"

I lowered my legs to sit normally. He nuzzled against me, only to freeze when he came face to face with the canine in my lap. I patted the spot beside me on the chaise, and slowly, Adrien complied. "Look, kitty." Though he did his best to avoid my gaze. "I will admit this. . . complicates things. I think it would be best if people didn't see Marinette and Adrien together. At least for a while."

"Mari. . ."

I reached over for his hand. "It's okay."

His eyes shut tight. "I'm _sorry_."

"Shh, it's alright. I know you're sorry. I am too."

We sat in silence for a moment, and I listened to Morte's steady breathing, as he'd returned to his own slumber in my lap. Then with barely a moment's warning, soft footfalls led to the creak of the trapdoor, to reveal Mama. She stopped short when she saw us sitting there. Her lips pressed to a determined line, her eyes taking the situation in, with _intense_ scrutiny. Our clasped hands did not go unnoticed.

 _She knows._

Though, surely by now, the news was all over France.

"M-mama," I squeaked. "How was y-your pottery class?"

She disregarded my question, even my very presence in the room. "Hello, Adrien," she said, her voice careful, but not unkind.

Adrien released my hand and shot to his feet. "Mrs. Cheng! Please, let me explain."

She leveled her chin. "I'm listening."

I jumped up, (which Morte didn't appreciate, as it startled him from his nap) clutching the poor terrier in my arms, and took a step forward, as if to create a barrier between them. "Mama, please."

She gave me a sad look, then glanced at the pictures pinned above my desk. Pictures of Adrien and I. She let out a weary sigh. "Adrien, I think it would be best if you left."

Only I could have heard the sharp breath he took in. Morte squirmed in my grip, so I set him on the floor. I wanted nothing more than to reach over and hug Adrien tight. But he was right. This was a mess. "Adrien. . ."

His eyes flicked to me, and I saw the mistiness there. "It's alright, Mari," he said, his voice soft. He dropped a hand to pat Morte on the head. "It was nice meeting you, little guy." He stepped around me, as if consciously avoiding being closer than necessary. The space hung dead, as if nothing we did could have broken through it. My shoulders went slack as it grew harder to breathe, to stand even. And then he was gone.

"What was he doing here?"

"He. . . we just talked, Mama."

"Are you going to defend him?" she cut in. Her voice wasn't sharp, but I sensed a dangerous undertone.

My answer caught in my throat. What could I say? "Are you angry?"

She took a step, and another until she reached me, and wrapped an arm through mine to pull me close to her. She laid a hand on my head, coaxed it to rest against her shoulder. "No, of course not."

Something wet and bitter burned in my eyes. "Do you hate him?"

She was quiet, then took a deep breath. "Do you?"

I gripped her sleeve, my eyes shut tight from the pain welling inside. "I could never hate him, Mama."

She placed both hands to my face and pressed a kiss into my hair. "I love you, honey."

"I love you, Mama."


	9. Act Two: II

I didn't go home. Instead, I did what I always do when I feel trapped. I wandered alleys, hid among gargoyles of _Notre Dame_ , and raced across rooftops. Just me, the suit, and a beautiful, clear sky. Though the fact that I was alone didn't seem to fully register in my senses. I caught myself glancing over my shoulder. Every flash of red was a reminder that my partner, my lady, was not at my side.

I knew I'd messed up. To say I was irritated with myself would be putting it lightly. But it hadn't hit me fully until I saw the disappointment in Sabine's eyes. Their family meant more to me than I'd ever let Mari know. They were good, kind people. What they thought of me meant more than I think I'd realized until today.

To think I may never spend another Saturday afternoon in the bakery, or meet with Mari to study, or stay for supper with her family again. . . I had to fix this. I had to make it right. I wasn't willing to so easily give up the people that had taught me what love feels like.

Eventually I turned about face, and forced myself not to linger as I passed close to the Boulangerie Patisserie. Already, the rooftop of my family's property drew in sight. My claws sank into a brick ledge, just in time to stop me from flying over the edge from the momentum of my landing. I nearly didn't react in time, stunned by the sight that met me.

My house. Swarmed with press. Waiting. Hunting.

My tail swiped through the air, and I clenched my teeth. "What else did you expect?" I asked, though no one but a cross eyed pigeon was around to hear. It gave me one look and took to the sky.

I dropped to the ground a couple doors away, and made sure I was concealed before I allowed my transformation to drop. A slip up now would not make the current situation better.

Plagg gave me a look, cold enough to freeze molten cheese. "It never ceases to amaze me, the messes you humans manage to get yourselves into."

"Shut up," I grumbled, then crept around the corner to the sidewalk. I considered the stone wall that swallowed the mansion with a hand trailing over the smoothed seam of two bricks. I was stronger than I'd ever been, but I wasn't sure plain old Adrien could scale it. Plagg would be no help. That left only one option.

I felt very much like a mere kitten walking into a den of foxes. I tried to wade through the crowd without drawing attention to myself. I managed to make it halfway to the gates before someone actually took notice of me. I guess they'd expected me to show up in a limo or something. A young woman wearing a sharp, navy skirt suit and a lanyard pointed and gasped.

 _Uh oh._

"IT'S HIM!"

Every head turned.

My name echoed from two dozen mouths. I drowned in the flash of cameras. I lifted my arms to shield my face, if only to avoid being blinded. They pushed closer, until elbows jostled me and I couldn't breathe. Someone knocked into me, and I stumbled forward and caught myself on hands and knees.

 _So this is how I go._ I always assumed I'd do something incredibly brave. Probably sacrifice myself for Paris, or even more romantic, for Ladybug.

An iron grip settled on my shoulder and lifted me off the cement. I tried to fight as it dragged me back, sweeping me through the mob. Which. . . maybe wasn't such a bad thing. Then I realized it was my bodyguard doing the dragging. I went limp with relief. He pulled me through the gates, and locked out the desperate cries of the reporters.

I stood frozen, knees weak. I may have fallen again if it weren't for his hold on my shirt. I took a breath, only for my lungs to beg for more air. "T-thanks, Fortier."

Gorilla's replacement nodded. "Of course, Sir." He let go of me and gave me an appraising look with his sharp eyes. What he lacked in bulk, though he was plenty strong, he made up for in cunning. I for one, thought it was plenty intimidating. "Are you hurt?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "No, I don't think so. Maybe a couple bruises. That's all."

"Good." He put a hand on my shoulder to guide me forward. "You should be inside, Sir."

A final glance back at the press confirmed they seemed to have every intention of staying exactly where they were. "Give us just a moment of your time, Adrien!" they pleaded. "We only want the truth," they promised.

"You're probably right," I said, and pointedly turned my back to the skulkers. As we reached the front steps, I faltered. "How's. . . my Father taking the news?" I didn't need to be told that he knew. He probably knew before I knew anyone _could_ know.

Fortier sighed, and the mask of his professional stoicism faltered for a moment. "It's been chaos, Sir."

I swallowed. _Not good._

The front hall was deathly quiet. Not that silence should have surprised me. But it _was_ more ominous than usual. Fortier firmly closed the front door and went on his way. I lingered, unsure of whether I should make my escape to my room while I still had the chance, or if it would be better to get the confrontation over with.

Instead of making a decision, I stalled by going through the pile of mail on the table. Though it was a dumb excuse. I rarely received anything. Amidst vanilla business letters and magazine subscriptions, there was a dark blue envelope with a wax sealing, the emblem of some sort of feather. Out of curiosity, I picked it up. It might have been an invitation to some exclusive event, but there was no return address on it.

"I'll get right on it, Sir," Nathalie called, in a flurry to get out of my Father's office. She closed the door, and took a deep breath, a mess of papers tucked in her arm, clutched to her chest.

"Nathalie?"

She startled, though it was more of a sudden look my way than a jump. "Oh. Adrien."

I cleared my throat and discarded the mail back into its tray. "Is uh, my Father in there?"

She straightened, the mere mention of her employer setting her back on edge. "He is."

"Is he busy?"

"He has ten different calls going, and three assistants in to help him, so yes." She readjusted the documents in hand. "I'm afraid it's been like this most of this morning."

"Right." I stuck out my lips, though it wasn't exactly a pout. "Should I go in? I thought he. . . might have something to say to me."

She was quiet, and considered me carefully. Nathalie rarely commented on my personal life, though that didn't mean she didn't have opinions, and I knew she cared for me in some form or other. Whatever thoughts pooled behind her frosty gaze, she refrained from sharing with me. "I'd say he probably does." She shrugged. "Go in if you like." If I _dared._ "I doubt things will slow down anytime soon."

I took a step, and forced myself not to waver. Though I felt Nathalie watch me with a curious eye. I guess I'd been so focused on what this meant for Mari and I, and her family, that I hadn't considered how other people would treat me differently. I was already famous, sure. But I'd kissed Ladybug, a household name. Everyone in Paris not only knew Ladybug, they adored her. How much more in the spotlight could I get?

Nathalie went on her way, brisk steps toward her office, to fulfill whatever quest my Father had sent her on.

I paused, my hand on the doorknob, as I tried to remember the last time my Father and I had spoken face to face. We'd seen each other briefly at a shoot a couple weeks ago, but that hardly qualified. Before that, I'd spoken to him on the phone. Again, about business. That had been reaching a month now. It had always been like this, but now it was worse. More than it had ever been. Days, even weeks would go by without our paths crossing. Father was always working over weekends, or leaving the city on business, but the frequency had largely increased. Ever since here moved me from Dupont.

I liked to think he felt guilty about it. That he couldn't make himself face me after what he truthfully, I don't think it was a coincidence that me being at home more meant he was here less.

I turned the knob, and pushed into the room. All I could see was red. Red fabric samples, mannequins decked in scarlet, designs pinned to the wall. All red. But even more shocking, were the dozens upon dozens of photographs sprinkled across the room. All of Ladybug. My hand went slack on the door and I watched, eyes round.

Chaos, yes. But the kind where progress was being met head on. Father always said the creative process was messy. That's just how it worked. He stood in the middle of it all, like the acclaimed King of fashion. He didn't see me at first, but the assistants Nathalie mentioned eventually took notice of me. Their stares and curious glanced caught Father's attention. He turned, hands clasped behind his back, to face me.

"Adrien."

It all slowed. Attention fell from sketches, from fabric samples, and even phone calls. I set my jaw, unsure whether to stay where I was, whether it was safe to venture closer, or even the highly appealing third option. _Run._

"Wh-what." I hadn't realized how at a loss for oxygen I was until I tried to speak. "What's going on?"

"Carpe Diem, my boy." Though he wasn't smiling, he didn't look specifically unhappy _._ In fact, he seemed. . . pleased? Why? "I'm seizing an opportunity. One too big to simply allow it to slip by."

"You're turning this into publicity for your company."

He swept an arm over the room. "My new line. Dedicated to the radiant, the miraculous savior of Paris."

While I agreed, Ladybug was miraculous. Radiant? Yes. And more than the savior of a city to me, his words had a reverse effect on me. They. . . repulsed me. _If anyone would try and gain from this, I guess it would be my Father._ I clenched my jaw, to trap any words, because anything that would slip out now would surely have repercussions.

"You of course," he went on," will be one of our main faces for the collection. It only seems fitting, seeing as you're now publicly known as. . ." His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. "Ladybug's lover."

My blood ran cold. I got the feeling it would be safer outside with the foxes than to stay in this snake's den. "I. . . I'm not sure if-"

"The people will eat it up," he cut in. "Don't you agree?"

It wasn't immediately apparent if he'd directed the question to his workers or me, but the silence stretched, and I was unwilling to say a word. They perked up, all quick to nod and voice their approval.

"Genius, Monsieur Agreste!"

 _Yeah, I don't think so._ I pulled the door opened again, making to leave. "Okay. . . well. I'll get out of the way of you 'genius'."

"Thank you, Adrien," Father said. "Oh."

I froze. There was always _something._

"One of your friends came to see you."

"Who?" My heart lifted, though perhaps it was too much to hope it would be Mari.

Father quirked an eyebrow. "I believe he's the one that begins every sentence with 'yo' or 'brother'?"

"Nino?"

"Ah. That's the one."

I tried not to sound timid, but I paled, knowing _right_ then that I didn't want to face my friend. . . If he'd even let me call him that anymore. "Where is he?"

Nathalie returned with whatever Father had asked her to fetch, and stepped past me with a solemn "excuse me, Adrien."

"I've not the slightest idea," he said. "Perhaps Nathalie knows."

"He may be in the pool room," she provided, and offered out a folder. "He had the chef sends snacks there earlier."

"Oh." I swallowed. "Thanks, Nathalie." I left them to their flurry of work. As I made my way up the front staircase, I considered briefly if I should ask Fortier to accompany me. Just in case.

Nino was indeed in the pool room. I saw him through the paneled glass, simply floating in the deep end. I'm not sure I'd felt so nervous since the first official date I had with my lady. After fighting them for weeks on end, butterflies left a sour taste in my mouth, even if they were figurative. I forced myself past the ill feeling in my stomach and rolled the sliding door open. The humidity dropped around me like a hot towel, and I knew the moisture would mess with my hair majorly. But that would be nothing compared to the damage it would do if Nino ended up pushing me into the pool.

It was this unfounded fear that kept me a good distance from the ledge, even to inch back a step as he paddled for the ladder. He'd heard me enter and now, as he stepped out, water dripping from his trunks to the cement, there was definitely something troubled in his eyes.

I blinked. "Are those my trunks?"

Nino reached for a spotless white towel folded on one of the lounge chairs. "Maybe. . ."

"Nino, what are you doing here?" A lump caught in my throat, because I had the sinking feeling I already knew. He took a step toward me, and I instinctively drew back. "You should at least remember that I took three years of karate."

His toweling off slowed, and his expression darkened ever so slightly. "Nah, man." He slung the towel around his shoulders and took the ends in a fist hold. "I was already here when that crap started blasting over the news. I don't think I woulda made it past all those reporters."

"I wondered." He didn't seem hostile, per se. Even so, my muscles coiled, braced for something. . . though I'm not sure what. I glanced at the still surface of the pool and my breath turned shallow.

"Alya. . . she called me." His eyes dropped to the floor, glazed, as if what he was about to say physically pained him. "Told me never to speak to you again."

Something told me to run. That I didn't need to face him. Maybe that was cowardice, but either way, I was too stunned to move. My fingers curled to bite at my own hand. Because Nino was my best friend. My _first_ friend from Dupont. There weren't many people I cared for as much as I did him. And now, whatever he said, I knew, would break me, sure as the glass wall sthat surrounded us could shatter with a blow.

"I want you to know what you did was wrong." Firm. True. If it had been true. "You didn't just hurt 'Nette. You hurt me too." He put a damp hand on my shoulder. I flinched. "I'm here to tell you, even though you messed up, even though you hurt someone I care a lot about. . . I care about you too, man. And I'll always be here for you if you need me."

His words jarred me, sure as if he really had shoved me into the pool.

Not another word escaped. Just the water filter running and the muffled city sounds seeping in. Nino picked up his things, and then he left. I stood frozen, staring at the water. The house never felt so empty.

* * *

We said our goodbyes at the Eiffel after patrol. But I simply hadn't meant it. Without thought, without hesitation, I tailed her all the way home. I made an honest attempt to be discreet, but my lady was clever and she knew it. I prowled the shadows of an apartment building across the street and watched through the brilliant jade of my night vision as her form fluttered through the night. She touched down, and I blinked away the enhanced vision to watch her transformation roll away with a shimmer that rivaled the stars.

The lights strung over her balcony were the next thing to flicker. They cast a warm glow over her surroundings as she picked up a watering can and dragged her feet toward the mass arrangement of plants she'd managed to collect. It brought a strange smile to my face, and a glow to the very darkest corners of this unlucky cat's heart.

 _Sweet bug. Tending to her plants when it's well after midnight._

I moved. Took a leap across the open street. With a nimbleness that stroked my pride, I came to perch on the railing of the balcony. Her balcony. Our balcony. There was little difference after all the late night rendezvous we'd shared here.

She inhaled a sharp breath at the sound of my weight landing, but didn't turn, intent on her task. My tail flicked, and I resolved not to give up. Still, she didn't acknowledge me.

"Meow."

At that, she scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Me? Ridiculous? C'mon."

"Says the boy in a cat suit."

"Touche." I moved, til I stood behind her, and watched over her shoulder as she parted leaves to reach the soil. "It's late. You really need to water all those tonight?"

Marinette picked up a flower pot, the poor creature wilted from neglect, and was quiet, thoughtful, as if she sensed a hidden intention in my question. "I've been so busy, I haven't had time to tend to them properly."

"Or rest?"

She set the pot down. All throughout patrol, I could tell she was worn down. I made good use of my long arms to reach around her and take hold of the handle of the watering can, my clawed hand wrapped over her own. I tugged it from her to set it on the table, then grasped her hand again, fully this time. She finally angled herself to look at me, something dangerous in her voice. "Chat."

"You need to rest."

"Don't baby me, kitty."

I placed a hand over my heart. "No, I'd never!" And then, without warning, and before even I really understood what I was up to, I scooped her into my arms bridal style.

She gasped, and grabbed hold of the front of my suit, jostling my bell in the process. "What do you think you're doing!?"

I chuckled then offered a sheepish smile. "Sweeping you off your feet?"

Mari's grip at my collar loosened. "Well. Don't."

I couldn't help but grin. With the strength of my miraculous, she weighed practically nothing. In fact, her small frame felt fragile. The thought sobered me. "I'm sorry."

Her eyebrows drew together, the dim lights catching in her eyes like stars in a blue so deep, I wondered what it would be like to never set foot on solid ground again. "Are you okay?"

From the view we had on her roof, I could just make out the silhouette of my own house. My heart came crashing down into the pit of my stomach. "There's something I've been trying to bring up all night, and I. . ." Her gaze turned soft, and open. A look that made me believe no matter what I could possibly say, she'd listen. She'd stay. "My Father," I mumbled. "He's turned this whole thing into. . ."

"I know."

I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or panic. Because she knew now, and there was no hiding it. Did she hate me for this? Did she hate Father? I mean, not that _that_ was hard but–

The trapdoor swung open. I jumped, not unlike a startled cat, arms still secure around her. My muscles knotted and my stomach rolled, and I could feel the proverbial sweat gathering on my forehead, because we'd been caught. By none other than Mari's best friend, the chief of the _Ladyblog._

Marinette paled. "A-alya?"

She stood, only halfway onto the balcony, her eyes wide, her mouth gaping. "Oh. My. GOSH."

"Let me down." Mari squirmed in my hold, as I'd yet to release her, which honestly might be the most incriminating detail of all.

That snapped me from my shocked state, and I set her on her own two feet, gentle as could be. "Of course–" _Princess_ nearly rolled out too, but I caught the pet name just in time. I coughed, the heat rising in my face. "Sorry about that."

Alya pointed straight at me. "What are _you_ doing in. . ." Her eyes flew to Mari. "Explain. Now."

"W-well, this is Chat Noir, you s-see."

Poor sweet princess. But I was at a loss myself, so she was left to flounder alone.

"I can see that." Alya stepped fully onto the balcony and her steely gaze fell on me. "Did he carry you up here?"

"No!" She started forward, only to freeze up. "Of course he didn't."

"Marinette, I've been waiting in your room for you to show up," Alya said. "How else would you have gotten up here without his help?"

 _Uh oh._

Alya's face turned sharp. "What are you thinking!?"

"Please!" Mari waved her hands, fully in a panic. "Don't jump to conclusions."

I lifted a hand to my chin, feeling the inkling of an idea. "Of course, there's a very simple explanation."

"Chat." Mari turned to glower at me. "Let me take care of this."

I took a step forward, my gaze intent on Alya now. She met it, stubborn and full of fire as ever. Even as a super hero, going toe to toe with her didn't seem the smartest move. But I had to help Mari. My lady was beyond floundering. She was sinking. Fast. It was only a matter of time before she spilled everything.

At least, that's what I had to tell myself to gather the guts to go on. I gestured to Mari. "This young lady was walking the streets alone in the dark." I placed a hand to my heart. "Being a protector of Paris, I could not in good conscience leave her to an unknown fate."

The blogger squinted, though she didn't seem completely unconvinced. "Is that right?"

"On my honor, madam." I scooped her hand into my own. "Your friend is safe now. As long as Chat Noir is here, I can vow you her safety." And then, for good measure, and with a great deal of charm, I pecked the back of her hand.

Alya's expression lightened and she glanced at Mari. "I. . . may have overreacted. Sorry, girl."

I turned and allowed a beaming look at her, at my Mari. Though Alya couldn't see it, I knew it was unwise to linger for long. "Sweet dreams, Princess."

Her reaction was worth letting the endearment slip, regardless of what Alya thought now. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly agape. "T-thanks. Chat. . . Noir."

Perhaps I _had_ been a bit dramatic. But go big or go home, right? So I winked for good measure. The fans loved it when I winked. And when her cheeks flushed in the hazy golden gleam of the balcony's light, I think she might have loved it too.

I retrieved my baton and turned to salute the young reporter. "Evening, _cherie."_ I offered it in hopes that it would make my farewell to Marinette less suspect, though as I said it, I knew it tasted little of the sweetness and familiarity that came out before. Maybe Alya wouldn't notice. One could hope.

With that, I took off into the night. Once the dark wrapped around me I ached to turn back. To return to the warm glow, and the warmth of her. To the moment when she looked _right_ into me, and I saw an awed trust and acceptance in her eyes full of stars. She was my Mari indeed.

* * *

I woke the next morning to a muffled hum. Without opening my eyes, shut against the sunlight I knew was waiting for me, my hand crawled through the sheets until I found the cool surface of my phone. I didn't bother to look at wh owas calling, as the screen was too bright, and my eyes refused to do more than peek at the world around me.

"What's up?" I croaked.

"Adrien!" Chloe's voice was loud enough to make me wince, though I could tell she was whispering. "You need to get over here."

"Huh?" I flipped over onto my back and blinked up at the ceiling. "Over where?"

"The hotel, of course. Where else?"

"Must sleeep. . ."

" _Now,_ Adrien."

Her tone was enough to chill the fuzziness of sleep and bring me more awake. I pushed up into a sitting position. "Is this about. . .?"

The other end was dead quiet.

"Do we really have to do this now?" I shot Plagg a glare, because he'd stolen my spot on the pillow, like the selfish cat he was. "I have an appointment with Harper in an hour."

"I wouldn't ask unless it was important," she said.

The sun had only just reached the skyline, stretching bright little beams across the city into windows, an invitation to get up, to face the day. My eyes flicked to the shadows the window frames cast on the west wall of my bedroom.

"Okay, Chlo. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I ran a hand through my tussled hair, in an attempt to clean it up a bit. I smirked. For Chloe's sake, it was probably good it hadn't been a video call. She would have been positively horrified. I rolled out of bed and the floor, chill under my bare feet helped to bring me more alert as I crossed my room and opened the wardrobe. I grabbed a hoodie and sweat pants–something Harper would probably burn if I showed up wearing to our appointment.

Perhaps because Plagg was still sound asleep and I had a pang of mercy for him, or more likely because I didn't want to put up with his whining, I slipped out my bedroom door without a word to him. It wasn't possible to ignore the gap it left. Like I wasn't fully myself if I didn't have him with me, so close had our essences bonded. Upon reaching the front entryway, I realized it was probably best this way. Best for Chat Noir to lay low until this whole secret identity mess cleared a bit. Although I'd promised to come as fast as I could, I doubt she had in mind for me to race across the rooftops in a cat suit to reach the hotel.

By some stroke of luck (maybe since I'd abandoned Plagg), the street was clear and I left the house without so much as a flash from a camera. I jogged a couple blocks to loosen up the stiff sleep that still clung to my joints, until I felt less conspicuous and able to blend into the crowd. Pedestrians were on their way to work, and I was far from the only person stretching their legs for a morning run.

I had to practically drag myself past Mari's house. The door to the bakery opened as I passed, a whiff of the treasures inside carrying to me. My stomach was quick to rumble, as I'd neglected to grab anything before sneaking out the house. Chloe hadn't given me much choice.

" _I wouldn't ask unless it was important."_

What could be so urgent? I didn't have a single guess. Trying to figure it out only left my brain in a twist and an ill feeling in my stomach.

Just as I reached the street where Le Grand Paris sat, my phone buzzed with a text from her.

[ _Chloe: Meet me in the lobby._ ]

I went on in, sparing the doorman a cautious smile, as it was entirely likely he'd recognize me. He nodded, but offered no words. I breathed a sigh of relief. The lobby was quieter than the street, any sound ate up by the luxurious crimson carpet. I turned a full circle to try and spot Chloe, but she'd come up behind me. She tapped my shoulder, and I jumped.

"Took you long enough." Her eyes darted across the room, definitely on edge. And she's the one that had frightened _me._

"I had to walk the whole way,"I defended, only now aware that we were whispering. "Why are we whispering? What's going on?" Without a word she snatched up my hand, and promptly dragged me from the lobby toward the dining hall. "Chloe, _what are you doing?"_

"I was just coming back from my mani pedi when I saw."

"Saw what?" My stomach dropped. How could she possibly have gone this long without seeing the. . . news?

Instead of walking into the dining hall, like a _normal_ human being, she yanked me behind a tall plant positioned by the door. Strategic. Suspicious. The fear in her eyes when she looked up at me was like an ice that lodged in my chest. If I didn't begin to get answers and soon, that ice would only spread further, until it gripped my heart.

"I saw her."

"Who?" I leaned around the foliage to look out over the room. It was packed out, as it was breakfast time for many, and well, this _was_ Le Grand Paris.

Chloe tugged me back in place, out of view and pushed a stray leaf aside, better to look up at me, lips set, eyes cloudy with worry. "It's. .. _her._ The woman at the table by the second window."

More cautious this time, I decided to part the greenery enough to peer out, instead of stepping into the open. My eyes trailed the outer wall, until I reached the second window. I had to strain to see, but as she said, a woman sat at the table. Alone. Her small frame was clothed in a white silk blouse and her golden hair fell soft around her shoulders. She twisted in her chair, taking in the room, so I had a clear view of her face.

 _Mom._

My hands snapped away from the stalks of the plant like I'd been cut. Dizzy? Was it normal to feel this dizzy? I swear my legs were going to give out on me.

"Adrien?" Chloe put a tentative hand on my shoulder, which helped to ground me a bit. "I recognized her when she checked into the hotel." Her voice softened, barely above a breath now. "Was I right to tell you?"

"I." Words. I had to tear them out of me. Somehow. "I don't know." When I looked at her, I saw something pained there, more anxious than she'd been through every moment leading up to now. "But thanks for telling the truth. I can't fault you for that.

The tension in her melted and Chloe's hand gave me a gentle pat before it fell away. "Always, Adrien." When she spoke, the sparkle had come back, and the conviction there almost knocked the breath out of me. "Always."


	10. Act Two: III

Chloe Burgeious' 16th birthday was exactly a week from today, and I carried the plans for a smooth and extravagant party all bound in a three ring binder, color coded and ready to roll. The doorman ushered me through, and I entered into the hushed grandeur of Le Grand Paris. Of course the event would be held in the hotel's dining room. That'd been one of the easier decisions. I strode past the desk into the scarlet room of tinkling glasses and wafts of soups and smoked fish battling in the air.

I'd come to meet Chloe for brunch, mostly to help with minor details and last minute preparations. Though I'm not sure why she insisted she needed _my_ help to plan this whole thing. Chloe was plenty opinionated for the both of us. In a small way, it was nice to know she valued my taste. After all, she'd asked me to help her throw a sweet sixteen so sweet it would rival my parents' bakery.

There was barely an empty table to be seen in the entire room, and I paused in the doorway, eyes roving to spot Chloe without much success. I can't tell you how much it scared me when she stepped out from behind a freaking _tree._

"AH." I clenched the binder of party plans to my chest, simultaneously almost dropping it all over the floor. "Chloe!?"

She didn't seem the least bit ruffled, despite her entrance being a little less than dignified. Her hair pristine, nails freshly done. Too clean to excuse her odd behavior as tending to the plant. "Bonjour, Marinette!"

". . . Good morning." As we drifted forward into the dining area, I turned my head to cast another strange look at the foliage. I glanced just in time to catch a blonde head slipping out the room. He peeked over his shoulder and our gazes met briefly, still green crashing into blue with all the force of a storm. It pulled at my heart in an odd way, but my voice fell silent, and Chloe tugged me on, demanding my attention toward our table. As if to distract.

If I thought Chloe popping out from behind a potted plant was strange, I was now thoroughly and completely confused. Should I say something? If I did that could lead to awkward confrontation, and she hadn't breathed a word to me about the whole Adrien Ladybug ordeal. Perhaps it was best then, that I lay suspicion aside and focus on the task at hand.

She led me to a table near a window that overlooked the shops on the street below. This was a fashionable part of town, so I spared a moment to take in passersby and their clothing before I slipped into the chair across from her. I settled my three ring binder on the table and flipped it open where samples lay waiting. Today we needed to pick the flavor for the cake (that Papa was baking), needed to decide on what kind of punch to serve, how many flowers she wanted, the napkins, the music. . . The music! "Has Nino called you yet?"

"Oh yes. He said he'd be able to come around and show me the playlist today." Something mischievous twinkled in her eyes. "I may have mentioned I was having brunch with you. . . I'm sure he'll turn up soon, seeing as there's food involved."

"I'm sorry I forgot to schedule a meeting with him." Which was in fact, a lie. I'd been apprehensive about contacting him since the. . . incident. All the party plans had begun long before this mess, and now, it just seemed strange. I couldn't imagine Nino placing any blame or holding anything against me in all this. From his point of view I seemed entirely a victim, but he was Adrien's best friend. Wasn't he?

"Nonesense." She waved a hand, as if to brush my excuse from the table. "You're doing a fantastic job, 'Nette. I knew I chose the right girl for the job."

My cheeks warmed at the praise. Honestly? I'd been afraid the whole event would turn into a disaster. Not because I didn't think myself capable of planning it, but because I'd hesitated to work so closely with Chloe.

Perhaps it wasn't fair to hold her past to her. A part of me still worried I wouldn't be able to please her. That she'd be particular to an extreme. That we'd have a fight, or huge disagreement. And after all, Chloe had such. . . _refined_ taste. It just seemed a bit precarious to say yes. Yet here we were, a week til, and everything was going smooth as custard.

"There's something we should clear up before we go any further."

I stilled, gaze stubbornly on the varying shades for napkins laid out between us. _Smooth until now, that is._ "Go ahead."

"Look." Her resolve seemed to crumble a bit, and her voice grew halting. "I've been putting off talking to you about this because I don't want to hurt you." Chloe fidgeted in her seat. "Alya has insisted I remove Adrien from the guest list. But I've decided not to rescind his invitation."

"Oh." Unbidden, my mind drifted to secret rendezvous behind potted plants. I nearly broke down, desperate for answers. Lucky for me, Ladybug had an excellent poker face. "Chloe–"

She held up a perfectly manicured hand. "No, no. Let me explain. Despite the mistakes he's made recently, he's been my friend for so long, and has been a friend to me when I don't think I deserved one. How can I simply ostracize him that way, when he did the very opposite to me, Marinette?"

Water gathered in my eyes as I looked at her, not because I was hurt the way she feared, but because I was moved to see how far she'd come in just a few short months. Chloe had changed and I was beyond proud to call her my friend. "Don't feel badly, Chloe. Adrien and I. . ." I sunk further into the back of my chair, feeling small at the sound of his name. "We've talked things through. I'll be alright."

"Thank you so, so, _so_ much. It just wouldn't feel right if he weren't there."

"Am I interrupting something?"

We both turned, and there stood Nino, ball cap, headphones and all. Another time, I might have giggled at how out of place he seemed in the luxe hall. His eyes shifted between us, like he'd heard something he wasn't sure he was supposed to, and I rushed to make him feel at ease.

"Oh, Nino." I splayed a hand over the papers that rested in front of me, as if just realizing they were there. "No, you're totally fine."

Chloe offered him a glittering smile. "Sit down. I'll go let the server know we're ready to order."

His eyes brightened at the mention of food. She knew him so well. "Thanks, Chlo." He waited until she excused herself to lay a hand on my shoulder. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"That's alright," I offered weakly.

Nino shifted, then his hand dropped to his side. He took the chair beside me, eyes eating up the table, either to distract himself, or more likely because he was hungry. "You and Adrien really talked things through?"

"Uh. Well."

"No, it's chill. It's none of my business."

I huffed, and beneath the table my fingers fidgeted in my lap, because _it most certainly should not take Chloe this long to grab a menu._

"I'm sorry he hurt you." His voice was so quiet, I almost didn't hear. And when I looked at him, his expression was dark, filled with a gloom very uncharacteristic for sunny Nino.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and closed. "I've uh, forgiven him for that. . . so."

"Just like that?"

Now he sounded just like Alya. I took hold of my glass of water and took a good long drink, because really, I must have been super dehydrated. Nino reached over to lay a hand on my arm. It was comfort in a way I didn't know I wanted til that moment, but totally not the way he meant it, I knew. My grip tightened around the glass and I stared into it at the slivers left from melted ice. "I'm okay. I swear. Thanks, Nino."

His fingers tightened their grip, just enough. "Of course. You're Marinette."

I pursed my lips.

"But listen. If you're ever 'not okay', I'll be there for you." He smiled. "I know you have Alya for that, but sometimes. . ."

"Alya's Alya."

"I'll listen and I won't try and fix your problems. I'll just be here. I'll be whatever you need. Okay?"

I smiled back, my eyes growing misty _again_. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"I'd do anything for the chick that got me my first big DJ gig," he said, along with a wink.

Chloe returned, at last, with a menu for Nino. She handed it to him and gave him a brisk pat on the back. "A server will be here in a moment to take our orders. Meanwhile." She settled into her chair, perched on the edge, eyes determined. "We can get down to work."

* * *

Feathers. Feathers _everywhere_. And when I lay my head on my pillow tonight, I knew I'd dream of them too. They were faux of course. The real deal would have been a trial for my kitty

My shoulders slumped in a posture probably unhealthy for my back as I sat at my desk. This desk was larger, longer than my old one by a good three feet. Papa had insisted, and I saw his love in every corner and joint of the wood, since he'd made it just for me. It was amazing, especially since I'd begun to attempt more ambitious projects. Now, a dress sprawled over the length, only in pieces at this stage. I held another in my lap, nearly identical but lighter, dovelike, but mostly just a temptation to curl around it like it was my pillow.

I'd been growing steadily stiffer, though for now it was drowned out by my concentration as I stitched the feathers together in an intricate pattern. I barely noticed when the trap door above opened, and a shadow dropped in.

Again, I chose not to acknowledge him. Perhaps if I didn't, he'd leave. Though that tactic proved fruitless last time. I caught footfalls, almost too soft to discern. I could almost feel the prick of his sharp eyes trained on me, though I didn't turn for confirmation.

He crept nearer. Then I jumped in my chair, not realizing just how close he'd gotten. Close enough to rub his head against my arm. It jostled my elbow. He'd crouched on the floor beside my chair, and moved further, until his head poked through my arm. My kitten looked up at me, acid eyes blown wide. And slowly, lucidly, he blinked.

I narrowed my own eyes, refusing to let him know how endearing it was. "You," I said, tone measured, "are not _actually_ a cat."

"Mew."

With a flash of emerald his suit rolled away, leaving Adrien to nuzzle into my side. Plagg didn't linger, and flitted across the room where Tiki had settled beside a sleeping Morte. She still had my phone, forever entertained by candy crush. I'd given up trying to beat her highscores long ago.

"I'm cute enough to be a real cat, though." He blinked again, as if in a need to prove his point. It was less hypnotizing without the mask and unnatural eyes, but hardly less adorable. "Right?"

This time I couldn't stop the smile that pulled at my lips. "Yeah." I allowed my hand to rest atop his head. "I guess you are."

Adrien peeked up at the desk, then studied the dress pooling in my lap. "Watcha workin on?"

"It's supposed to be Chloe's dress for the party."

He examined it again, this time with comprehension. He allowed a hand to roam over the softness of the fake feathers, and gave a deep sniff for good measure. "Hm." Green eyes flicked up to me. "You sound tired."

"I just have a lot on my plate right now." My gaze faltered, because I wasn't sure I entirely believed my next words. "I can handle it, though."

He extricated his head from the crook of my arm and inched onto his feet. Hands dropped to my shoulders. I instantly relaxed at his touch and sighed, now fully aware of my exhaustion. Adrien spun the chair, just enough to be in a position to give me a massage.

 _Mmm. I can die happy now._ I rolled my shoulders. _But not before I finish Chloe's dress. And finish planning the party. Or before I find and crush Hawkmoth._ Paris' safety came above rest, after all.

"Adrien?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you an angel?" I asked, voice soft, dreamy. Because I swear this felt too good to be real.

"Funny." And he did chuckle. "I've been meaning to ask you the same thing."

I hummed again, but faltered because I almost broke into a giggle. "Silly kitty."

"How was your day?" He slowed long enough to plant a kiss to my shoulder, then moved on to press deeper into a spot just below my right shoulder blade where a knot of tension had formed. "I guess you saw Chloe."

"We had brunch together." I knew I'd turned tense again. I wasn't sure whether to mention what she had said about him. Instead, I latched onto the mystery of the plant rendezvous. "What was my kitty doing lurking around the hotel this morning?"

"Oh, uh. We just had a chat."

"Behind a bush?"

"Right." He cleared his throat. "So your day was good?"

"It went alright," I finally gave in. If he wanted to be cryptic, so be it. I trusted him to tell me if it was something important. It had probably just been Chloe being Chloe. Butting her face in where she shouldn't be. I bit my lip. "Everything's better now that you're here."

"You just say that because I'm giving you a massage."

Normal enough. He was quick to quip, always with a joke. But there was something off in his voice.

"Adrien?"

He didn't answer.

"How was your day?"

"It's been stressful. Father's new line and all." His tone grew mocking. "He's trying to get it out fast, while the news is still 'hot'. I mean, he could have at least said 'buzzing'." That cat and his puns. "Hm. I bet he's really expecting these new designs to _fly_ off the shelves."

I turned my chair with a toe against the floorboards until I came to face him. I tilted my head back to take in my gentle giant of a kitty. He was getting to be so tall. With Gabriel as a father, he was pretty much doomed from the start. I took his hands in mine and offered a look of sympathy. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged it off. "You don't have to apologize for Father. He is who he is."

I could apologize until the moon turned blue, but that wouldn't change a thing. He was right. There was no changing a man like Gabriel. So I switched to a different strategy. If words would not solve his dad issues, I could distract him with food. "You want a snack or something? I can sneak down and grab leftovers or some pie."

"Some Camembert would be delightful," Plagg called.

"Don't listen to him." Adrien's face dropped to a frown. "He's had so much to eat today, I'm surprised he can still fly."

A pitiful moan. "He's starving me!"

"Plagg," Tiki piped up. "You shouldn't be dishonest with Marinette, you know."

There was a beat of silence, then a queasy sigh. "Alright, alright. I suppose I'll suffer through the hunger pangs. . ."

I covered my mouth with both hands, because Adrien didn't like it when he caught me laughing at Plagg. Said it went to his head, and it was already big enough.

Plagg burrowed deeper into Morte's soft fur. "This game would be better made of cheese."

Tiki paused her gaming just long enough to roll her bluebell eyes. "There's no such thing as cheese crush, silly."

Adrien didn't seem as amused by the playful bickering. He gave a skittish glance at the trapdoor that led down to the kitchen and living space. "What about your parents? You think it's a good idea for me to be here?"

At this, I bit my lip, because I didn't know. It's not like they tucked me in every night, but still, it would be pretty bad for one of them to come up and find him here. Just the thought of having to explain to them, of explaining _Adrien_ made me feel sick. "I think. . . if we're quiet it'll be okay. They should be getting ready to go to sleep soon. Baker's bedtime and all."

A troubled expression fell over his face, and his eyes stayed insistently on our clasped hands strung between us.

"Hey." My grip tightened. "You alright?"

"I'm just. . ." His shoulders hunched, and if he'd had them, his ears probably would have been flat against his hair. "I don't like it."

"Me either."

"No," he said, voice tight. "I mean. . . I don't like being dishonest to your parents. It doesn't feel right."

I reached up to cradle his cheek in my hand, to tip his face toward me. "Oh, Adrien."

"I know we can't exactly waltz down and say 'hey I'm Chat Noir and your daughter is Ladybug. That's why I kissed her, why we're in this mess. But hey, least I'm good at sneaking behind your back'."

I let a puff of air through my nose. Ridiculous. Ridiculously sweet. "Hey."

His eyes flicked down to mine, lips curled in distaste. "What?"

"You haven't kissed me in a while, you know."

It took a moment, but soon enough the irritation drifted away, replaced by a tenderness. He stooped, more so than he usually needed to, and rested forehead to forehead with me. "This cannot stand, my lady." He moved closer, to press into my lips, consequently rolling my chair back. His hands came to the back of it, to steady us as he gave me a gentle kiss.

"That's better," I said, a hairsbreadth from him. I pressed in again, allowing my hands to wander. I found a grip on his shoulders, and rose up, pushing him backward. He bumped against my desk, and let out a sound of surprise, though we didn't part. My hands trailed over his chest, then abdomen, and he shuddered beneath my touch. It really had been too long.

His arms curled around me, drawing me close. Together we drifted down, Adrien's back against the desktop. The unfinished dress was brushed away, falling to a heap on the floor. I smirked, knowing I would never tell Papa we'd proved the excellence of his craftsmanship, in that it was strong enough to hold both Adrien's and my body weight combined.

Our kiss grew deeper, as we stretched out in a rather suggestive position. It sent a thrill, a hum through me to have him this way, so close, bodies flush. How many times had Ladybug and Chat Noir been thrown together this way in the heat of battle? I remember, I used to push him away. And now? Now he was mine.

Adrien took hold of me by my upper arms and pried me away. "S-slow down, Mari."

I froze, fingers still tangled in his shirt, still mesmerized by the green in his eyes, lost in the scent of his cologne.

His grip went slack, doubt creeping into his voice. "I'm. . . sorry."

I swallowed, heat still racing through me. I couldn't help the way my eyes strayed back to his lips. "D-don't apologize." Slowly, I untangled our legs and slid over the edge of the desk to the floor to give him space.

Adrien straightened, legs swinging back to the floor. He pressed a hand to his face, forcing a couple deep breaths.

I hesitated to touch him again, but finally placed a hand on his shoulder. "Is something wrong? Did I. . . I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

His hand dropped to grip the edge of the desk. With him sitting at this height, and me standing, we were at just the right eye level, but his gaze went stubbornly to the floor. "I just." His mouth tightened, so much like his father in that moment. "I'm sorry. I know it's dumb."

"Adrien." I pushed past the blush rising up my face. "You know we don't have to. . . rush at all. We can. . . take everything slow." I moved my hand to thread through his hair, stroking it, because that always seemed to calm him. Finally he looked at me, more relief in his eyes than I would have expected. "It's not like you're going anywhere," I said, lighter, almost teasing.

He winced away.

"Adrien, what's wrong?"

He didn't answer at first, and then I thought he wouldn't. When he spoke up, it was quiet, strained. "It's my parents. I see everyday how much she hurt him when she left."

"Adrien, I would _never_ leave you–"

He took my hand and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it. "I know. I think it's so stupid. I trust you." His eyes bored into mine with a rawness, an honesty, and the pain that was there. I was quiet now, waiting for him to go on. Adrien didn't open up like this very often. I wanted to give him the chance to. I wanted him to trust me with the things going on inside. So I waited.

"It's not that I don't want that _ever."_ His face pinked. "Not now, of course. Someday. And I know it's going to be you, Mari. I just need. . . I don't know. I guess I'm just afraid." Green eyes met mine uncertainly. Vulnerable. "Please don't hate me."

Crap. Crying for the third time today? Perhaps it was weariness that lowered my defenses. But the pain I saw when I looked at him broke me. "Oh, Adrien," I whispered.

He ducked his head. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, of course not." I swallowed back the tears. "Please don't think I hate you. I don't. I'd hate myself if I made you feel like you need to do anything you're not comfortable with. That's always more important."

"Mari?"

I took a deep breath to steady myself. "Yes?"

"I. . . Can I have a hug?"

"Mm." I edged closer, my arms wide open. I folded around him, and his head rested in the softness of my shoulder, tucked under my chin. His arms gripped at the back of my shirt, and his breathing shuddered for a moment, as if he'd suppressed a sob. My throat closed, and I was unable to speak. It was in moments like this, it hit me hard to see how starved he was for things I took for granted. For even a hug.

We stayed that way for minutes, just in silence and comfort. I stayed with him until his breathing evened. "Hey, kitty?"

He straightened, but didn't take his hands from me. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

"And I you, bugaboo," he said, his voice soft, still raw with emotion.

I glanced over at Morte, who slept soundly in his doggie bed, little gods curled up beside him. My phone lay dark, slipped to the floor. "Looks like it's past our kwamis' bedtimes."

His eyes flicked to them, before he cast a look to the side. "Hey, Mari?" Adrien asked, his voice strangely timid. Even more than when he'd asked for a hug.

I looked at him curiously. "Yes?"

"Nevermind."

"Adrien?"

He was quiet, and again I waited. Though I won't pretend being patient with him was easy. He just needed time to work up the courage, I guess–

"Could I stay the night?"

I froze, my eyes rounding. ". . .What?"

"Never mind." He abruptly stood, which forced me back, a step away from the desk.

"Adrien–"

"It's fine, Mari. Forget I asked."

I grabbed at his hand, before he could slip beyond my reach. "Wait. I didn't say no. I just. I want you to promise never to push yourself to do something. I told you not five minutes ago we'll take things as slow as you want, and I _meant_ it."

"I only meant it to get out of the house," he said. "Y'know. My Father and all." He cleared his throat. "I didn't mean. . . I'll sleep on the couch, if it isn't too much trouble."

"Oh." I stilled. "That. . . that's fine with me."

"Thanks, Mari."

My lips pooched as I took in the room, considering the proposition. As long as my parents didn't see him. . . "Oh. I don't have anything for you to wear." He used to make it into my baggier stuff, but with the way he'd been growing lately, I really didn't have a chance keeping up now.

"That's alright." He smiled. "I'll manage."

I picked up the unsewn dress at my feet and folded it back on its place on my sewing desk, before I went to the closet to pull out an extra blanket. I left it folded on the chaise lounge, and slipped into the bathroom where I switched into some pajamas and brushed my teeth. When I came out, Adrien was already curled up with the comforter, scrolling through some feed on his phone.

"You need anything?" I asked, hesitating at the foot of the chaise.

"You mean like a glass of warm milk?" He shot me a smirk. "I'm good, thanks."

"O-okay." I went to the light switch, and with a click, the room flooded with dark, lit only by the warmth of fairy lights strung over my bunk, and the blue light from his phone. Instead of thinking about being in a dark room with Adrien, of having Adrien sleep in my room, I made my way across the floorboards, concentration on being careful not to trip. Because that would have been embarrassing, and I doubt he'd let it slide without some teasing. I made my way up to my bunk, finding some comfort and sense of safeness in it. Not that I felt unsafe. Just. . . nervous? I shook my head. _Don't be dumb. There's nothing to be nervous about._

What if I snored _really_ loud and didn't know? What if I said something embarrassing in my sleep? Tiki would have told me if I snored, right?

I held my breath, and looked out into the dark as my eyes slowly adjusted. Enough to make out his form as he arranged his pillow, then lowered his head. I couldn't help but notice how he pulled his knees up, his body curled tight. _Hm. Almost like a cat._ It brought a sly smile to my face, though I decided not to voice the thought. So I pulled the covers over me and flicked off my fairy lights. I swallowed, then worked up the nerve to speak. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Marinette."

* * *

Saturdays are wonderful because Saturday is Mama's day to spend mornings with Papa. So I get to sleep in instead of getting up at 5 to help in the bakery. As you would guess, the arrangement suited me as well as warm chocolate chip cookies dipped in milk.

It was with a contented sigh that my eyes finally drifted open. It wasn't til I turned in bed, to where I could look out on the room and saw the blanket folded on the end of the now vacant couch that I remembered. A frown tugged at my sleep dazed face. If Adrien was leaving, he should have woken me up to say goodbye. Though in fairness, rousing me wasn't easy. Perhaps he'd tried. Perhaps he had a shoot to be at. Perhaps he wanted to avoid raising suspicions with his Father, or didn't want to risk getting caught spending the night somewhere else.

Upon further inspection, I noticed neither Morte or Tiki were accounted for. I edged from my covers and tiptoed down the steps til I reached my waiting slippers. I headed up to the balcony, and soaked in the waiting morning light. As my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I saw Adrien sitting in one of the patio chairs, science book in hand. I rubbed at my eyes, unbelieving at how Morte had nestled in his lap.

"I must be dreaming. Since when are you two friends?"

"Well. . . Friend is a strong word. We've just. . . Come to an agreement," he said vaguely. Even so, I could see a hint of fondness in his eyes as he glanced down at the sleeping dog. Morte let out a contented sigh, and nuzzled his damp nose further into the crook of Adrien's arm.

I yawned, with such fierceness my eyes screwed shut, and I couldn't seem to breathe deep enough. I shook my head, pigtails coming even looser, as the holders had slipped during the night. "Are my eyes all puffy? They feel puffy."

Adrien inclined his head, studying me closely as I settled in the other chair beside him. "Hm. . ." His hands lifted from his textbook, and he took hold of both sides of my face to squish my cheeks. "There. Now everything matches."

"Adwien," I said, my speech impeded by his grip. "Pwease. It's too ewly for dish."

He grinned. "Aw, look at that. Who knew sleepy Mari was so cute?"

I pouted. Not by choice, of course. "I'm always sweepy."

"Yeah, you're right." His eyes glimmered with that hint of mischief. "You're always this cute."

"Okay. Dats enouwgh." He kindly released me. "Hey, know who else is cute?"

"Oh?" He leaned closer in anticipation. "Who?"

I stroked the dog's chestnut fur. "This lil guy." I grinned evily. "He's adorable."

This time he pouted. Because he's silly that way. "I see. Hey, Mari what're you doing today?"

"Not much. I've got a couple loads of laundry to do. Alya will probably call me sometime and want to go somewhere or hang here." I shrugged. "She's been a bit clingy since. . ."

"Oh."

"I think she's just trying to distract me. Like that might help." I tilted my head. "She's concerned I'm not 'letting out my frustrations'."

Adrien's hand trailed to rest atop mine, and our fingers lazily twined together. "I know what else you're doing today."

I studied him expectantly. "And what might that be, oh great and wise oracle?"

"I'm going to help you do laundry," he said, and looked a little too excited for something so mundane.

"Uh. You don't have to do that."

"Nonesense! Where my lady goes, I go. Even to the ends of the earth."

I turned my attention back to Morte, to try and disguise the hint of blush I felt coming on. "I guess if I had to be stuck with someone, it might as well be you." And then we met each other with smiles, both wondering whether I truly spoke of the ends of the earth, or simply doing chores together. Maybe. . . maybe they were one and the same.

* * *

I should have known from the get go that this wasn't a good idea. With a hamper balanced at my hip, I carefully made my way down the basement steps into the laundry room, with a certain kitty trailing behind. I clicked on the light switch, which lit up a single exposed bulb. I eyed the door, teeth worrying at the inside of my lip. While my parents were both busy in the bakery, they were only a floor above.

My voice low, I turned to give my little kitty a serious look. "Just keep things quiet, alright?"

"Quiet as a mouse, m'lady."

With that, I sat the hamper down and began to sort the contents into two piles of dark and light. It got a bit awkward when I pulled out one of my undergarments, but I was quick to toss it in and move on. When it came time to load the washer, Adrien _insisted_ we put the sock in with their mate, so they wouldn't "get lonely". The dork.

"Look, how about _I_ put the socks in?" I tried to tug one of Mama's cozy socks from his grasp. He looked up from where he was crouched beside the basket and his grip tightened. "Adrien. Let go."

"I want to help," he insisted. His attention on the sock vanished when his eyes caught on the sleeve of something soft and blush colored. He tugged it from beneath some pants and shirts, and pulled the wadded hoodie into his arms. He went so far as to rub his face against it, and the fuzzy texture turned his hair static. "This is your favorite," he purred.

I perched a hand at my hip. "It's _your_ favorite." While he wasn't looking I chucked Mama's single sock into the washer. "Give it here."

Instead he burrowed his face inside of it. "Mine now."

"Adrien."

"So warm."

At least now I could get some work done. He was fully distracted for three minutes, hunched over, with his face stuffed in my hoodie. Which wasn't strange _at all_. I shook my head and refused to laugh at him, because it would only encourage his antics. I loaded all the light colors and started the washer's cycle.

At the sound of the machine starting up, Adrien pulled from his burrow, hair standing on end. His eyes came to rest intently on the washer as the clothes spun around, and the water washed over the garments. "You're done?"

I set the detergent back onto its home on the shelf. "With the first load."

"Now what?"

"Now I'm going to sort the second hamper."

This wasn't the answer he'd hoped for, apparently. With head drooped, he let the furry hoodie rest in his lap, brow furrowed in concentration. "I know," he said, and looked up at me, his eyes shining, as if he'd come up with something absolutely brilliant. "I'll make breakfast for us."

I paused in my rummaging through the laundry to give him a considering look. "Really?"

"Sure." A beautiful smile slipped across his face, though his hair still clung with static electricity. "Breakfast for the Princess."

Such charm. Such green eyes. How could I refuse? "Well, alright. Just make sure to be quiet."

He offered out my hoodie, and eased off the floor and toward the door. A moment later I was left to do my laundry in peace. I heaved an armful of tee shirts out of the basket, slowing when a slip of white caught my eye. I let go of everything except the faded tee, and smoothed a hand over the knit, speckled with paint in blue, and pink, and green. The warmth of a memory seeped through the contact. Of the time Adrien came over after a fight with his Father. When we made chocolate chip cookies together. Before we were a couple. Before he knew I was Ladybug.

Tiki had said to me then that it didn't matter what secrets we still kept from each other. We were more than akuma fighting partners or friendly classmates. The tie of our souls was beginning to tighten.

" _It's more than being like a family,"_ she'd told me. _"I've seen it with Ladybugs and Chat Noirs over and over again. Whatever your relationship will look like, it will be something miraculous, Marinette."_

It was just as hard to believe it then as it was now, in light of recent developments. But my kwami never let me down. I would just have to trust her.

Eventually I had the second load running and the first in the dryer. After tidying up some odds and ends I went up to the main living space. I'm not sure why, but I didn't announce my presence. The soles of my slippers were soft against the wood floor, and I paused at the bottom of the stairs to my room. I curled a hand around the banister, content to watch as Adrien moved uncertainly through the kitchen. The oven was on, and from the smell of cinnamon, I could only wonder what lay baking inside. Although it wasn't as large as our old one, a new family recipe book lay open on the he'd chosen was an special family recipe.

Adrien crouched to paw through a lower cabinet. Despite his attempts to be quiet, bowls and pans clanked together as his search went on. I smiled and pulled my weight from the railing to go help him. He began to quietly hum to himself, and I immediately stilled. The tune wasn't a familiar one, but it almost sounded like a lullaby. It came from him so soft, a part of me just knew he was thinking of his mother.

Now I watched him through blurried eyesight, as he padded across the space, a hot pad triumphantly in hand. He stooped to open the oven and pull out the mysterious tray of our special breakfast. The humming came to a halt as he concentrated. I still couldn't see what it was, as his back shielded the oven from sight. Though it was apparent what happened the moment he squeaked, and yanked his hand away from the tray.

I gasped, a moment later reacting. I rushed forward and knelt beside him where he'd sunk to the kitchen tile, hand cradled gingerly against his chest. "Oh, Adrien, here. Let me see."

He winced, then held out his hand to display the red mark blooming across the thumb. "Is it bad?"

I took him by the wrist to pull it in for a closer look. "I know it hurts, but I think you'll be alright. Go put it under cold water."

He picked himself off the pink and white patterned floor to follow my instructions. "Do I put butter on it?" He turned on the sink and held his hand under the cool stream. "Is that a thing? I feel like I've heard that somewhere."

"No, kitty." I retrieved the hot pad from the tile where it'd been abandoned in the excitement. "Just keep it under the water."

"Yeah." He shot me a tiny smirk. "You were never one to butter me up."

"That's because you can flatter enough for the two of us." I slid the tray out of the oven and set it atop the stove. I took in the collection of gooey cinnamon rolls, all differing sizes but a nice golden brown.

"Hm. I think we have an ointment around here somewhere." I moved toward the cabinet where we kept medicines and vitamins and the like. I hooked the stepping stool with my foot and slid it into place to help me reach. It took a bit of rummaging through bottles and boxes of bandaids, but I found what I was looking for. "Here we go."

Adrien turned off the tap and followed me away from the sink to the end of the couch in the living space. We'd only taken the sheets off the furniture yesterday, after the painting had all been completed and dried. I settled on the cushion beside him and took his arm in hand. I squeezed a bit of the ointment out of the tube to smooth over the burn. He winced at the contact. "Ouch."

I cringed. "Sorry. Does it hurt real bad?"

"Guess it's what I get." He shrugged, shoulders hunched. "Mari, I'm sorry."

"Shh." Though I'd finished with the ointment, I still held his hand in mine. "It's not your fault. It happens to everyone."

"Yes, it is. I was an idiot to think I could bake something. I can't cook."

"Adrien. You're not an idiot." I released his hand and angled myself better to see him as I cupped his face in my hands. "I. . . think it's sweet you'd want to cook for me. You were just trying to be helpful, and that means more to me than a silly breakfast. Besides, the cinnamon rolls look really good. You haven't ruined anything."

"Marinette!" My kwami swooshed into the room, phasing through the closed trapdoor to my room with my ringing phone in tow. "It's Alya." Tiki was just a red spot, swishing across the room, til she halted in front of me.

"Thanks, Tiki." I held out a hand, and she lowered the phone into my palm. I tapped to receive the call, and lifted it to my ear. " _Salut_."

"Hey!" Alya chimed. "Just wanted to give you a heads up. I'm headed over with a movie and some ice cream."

My eyes bugged. "But A-alya–"

"It's your favorite flavor. Last one at the store, too. You're a lucky girl."

"Alya, really. You didn't have to do that." I bit at my lower lip. "I'm fine, really. I'm having a pretty good day so far."

"Don't try and weasel your way out of this. You've been so busy with meetings and babysitting and working in the bakery, it's time for a little chill with your girl, Alya." She laughed. "I may even do your nails, if you can sit still long enough."

I cast Adrien a helpless look. Alya was sweet, really. I knew she was doing this for me. But I couldn't help feel disappointed. Somehow I'd thought I could spend the day with him. But that wasn't realistic. Not with things being the way they were. "Okay." I suppressed a sigh. "I guess I'll see you in a bit."

"You bet."

I lowered the phone, limply to the cushion beside me.

"I guess she's coming over here, huh?"

I turned again to Adrien. "Yeah." Absently, I picked up the burn ointment, and drifted back toward the kitchenette. "I'm. . . sorry. You know how Alya is. Once she's made up her mind."

He rubbed at the leg of his jeans before getting to his feet. "Yeah. I know."

"You want a cinnamon roll for the road?"

"Ooh, those smell amazing, Marinette!" Tiki said, her eyes bright. She came to hover by my shoulder, and buzzed in excitement. "Did you make them?"

"No." I cast a purposeful smile at Adrien, who had come closer, and lingered by the fridge. "My sweet boyfriend made them for me."

Tiki beamed at him. "Oh, Adrien, you're getting better and better at baking. Soon enough Tom and Sabine will have you slaving away downstairs!" She froze, her face suddenly wrought with distress. "Oh. . . I'm sorry."

Adrien gave her a soft smile. "It's alright. Thanks, Tiki." Then he shot me a sly look. "You better not let Mari eat them all. You deserve a couple, at least."

Tiki twirled in the air, a giggle bubbling from her tiny body. "Oh, thank you. They smell amazing."

Adrien stepped closer, and his uninjured hand came to rest at the small of my back. "I'm not really hungry. I think I'll just head out."

"Are you sure?" I set the spatula down. "Not even one?"

"You're plenty sweet enough for me," he said, then leaned down to peck my lips. "Patrol tonight?"

"I can't. Have to babysit." I wrapped an arm around him. "But tomorrow night. I'll be there."

His smile faltered. "Okay."

I reached up to adjust his fringe, and let my hand rest on his shoulder over his wrinkled shirt from yesterday. "I'm. . . sorry. I know this isn't easy."

"I just miss you."

Out the corner of my eye, I saw Tiki flit away. She was always good about giving us privacy. Plagg too, for that matter. I suppose it's something they'd become sensitive to over their innumerable years of coexisting with humans.

Adrien didn't say more, his gaze boring into mine, an unspoken question there. _Do you miss me?_

"I. . ." I'd been so busy. . . I mean, of _course_ I missed him. Sometimes. But with everything on my plate, it was easy to be. . . distracted. "I know."

He wanted more from me. I should have told him, right then. But I hesitated, and the moment was gone, as sure as if it had slipped through my fingers.

"I should go before Alya shows up," he said, and stepped back.

My hold on him tightened, and I stretched to tip toe, to get another kiss. Though he responded, he didn't linger, and I wondered if it was paranoid to think it was because of something I'd said. Or didn't say.

He pulled away, and slipped up the stairs to my room, to rouse Plagg, as it was quite likely the kwami was still sound asleep. I turned my concentration to the cinnamon rolls. No doubt, Alya would snag a few. So in foresight, I set a couple aside for Tiki.

It didn't take long to whip up some icing, and only a couple minutes slipped by before the door to the bakery opened. Alya came in, toting a grocery bag, presumably with strawberry ice cream inside.

"Hey," I called.

"Marinette." Her tone was accusing. Even angry.

My mouth tightened. _Really? What now?_ She'd sounded fine when we spoke over the phone. What could have possibly happened? What had changed? I turned from the stove, to face her. "What's wrong?

She closed the door behind her, eyes narrowed, shoulders set. "I saw him."

My heart stopped. "You. . . you what?"

She stepped forward, didn't take her steel gaze from me as she set the paper bag on the counter. "I saw him leaving." Her arms crossed. "Well? I'm waiting."

"F-for what?"

"An explanation." She cocked an eyebrow. "And it better be good. Or I'm marching right down and telling your parents and you better believe that's not a bluff."

"Alya!"

"Are you going to pretend he wasn't here?" she pressed. "How many times has he come to see you?" Alya threw both hands, flat down against the counter. "Marinette. I don't understand."

I set the bag of icing onto the counter. I couldn't believe she'd found out. And I kicked myself we weren't more careful–

"And of all people, you had to go and choose _Chat Noir_ as your rebound."

" _What!?"_

"Don't try and pretend!"

And she meant it. If I lied, she'd know. "H-he's only a friend, Alya." Okay, still a lie. "He's a superhero–"

"He's trouble." Alya folded her arms again. "Haven't you seen the way he flirts with Ladybug? I don't know about him hanging around you, Mari. Especially. . ."

"Especially?"

"Since. . . You know. You and Adrien." She shook her head. "It's too soon."

"Shouldn't that be _my_ decision?"

"Is this a game to you? Is this your way of getting back at him? To date Ladybug's partner?"

"No!"

"Marinette _it's dangerous."_

I bit the inside of my lip, and inhaled, hoping it would be enough to keep me back from completely dumping all the things I'd had to bottle up since this crazy started. "Dangerous?" I asked, voice dulled. "You're one to talk."

She looked away, unable to look me in the eye. _Gotcha._ The storm seemed to still, and as the fury left her I saw that she was really only worried. "They don't know, do they? Your parents."

"I know what I'm doing." I bit at my bottom lip, knowing full well I didn't. It was getting easier and easier, this lying thing.

My friend slowly went to work getting out the ice cream, the paper bag rustling the only sound in the canyon between us. As she tugged the lid open, to reveal the perfect, glassy surface of pink, her resolve came back. She fixed me with an amber gaze, hot enough to melt the contents of the carton. "But I promise you, super hero or not, if that boy messes up he'll have something more than Hawkmoth to deal with."


	11. Act Two: IV

_a/n: sorry for the delayed update! my day was so hectic you'd think Plagg was my kwami_ 😛

* * *

When the chime flitted through the house, I didn't give it a second thought. Doorbells were hardly on my mind. My eyes traced the checkered floor of Father's office as Harper fussed with the collar of my button up shirt. A piece for Gabriel's Ladybug Line. I hated it more than Plagg on caffeine.

Harper tilted her head, silky hair swaying with the motion. Recently she dyed it a deep copper, to complement her light complexion and gray eyes. Though she always looked nice. It was sort of in her job description. "Do you think it's red enough, Sir?"

"It's plenty red," Father eased.

She took the suit jacket off the rack and held it up against my shirt, to inspect the contrasting hues and textures. "Everything looks excellent. It's finally coming together."

"Yes, and no small praise is due you, Harper." Father offered a rare smile, more snakelike than anything else. "You've been a wonderful asset through this project."

I bristled a bit. I always did when I sensed Father lose sight of the fact that people were people. And he'd gone so far as to call her an asset. _Why would anyone ever want to work for him?_ If there was a resignation form for being Gabriel Agreste's son, I would have signed it a long time ago.

Harper met him with a smile, obviously equal in sincerity. In that moment I realized how much I loved her. She was so much more than an asset in a large business. My eyes returned to the floor, more dazed than ever. If anyone in my life ever deserved the role of mother figure, it was her.

Nathalie rapped on the door, and stepped in. "Apologies, Mr. Agreste. I know you're in the middle of something." I wasn't sure from across the room, but I'd almost say there was something bordering dread in her eyes. "There's. . . Someone to see you."

"I see. Well who is it?" Father set his tablet on the edge of his desk, obviously _not_ amused. Because as Nathalie had said, he was in the middle of something.

"Pardon me," a voice said. A woman's voice, but lower in pitch than average. Like a violin, with a certain lilt to it. Almost a melody. She stepped from beyond the double doors, into the room. There she stood, sure as the sky was blue.

"Mom."

The word was out before I could stop it. Though it was quiet, almost a breath, it hung in the air. And for a moment, the world seemed to slow, even to draw to a stop.

"Leave us."

At Father's request, Nathalie darted into the hall as though she'd been waiting to be freed.

Harper lingered a moment, eyes taking my mom in the way she did anyone. She had a sense with people, a super power in her own way. In spite of her profession, she saw deeper than outward appearance. Whatever conclusion she drew about Melody Agreste, caused her to frown, but remained unvoiced. Resolutely, she hung the crimson jacket back onto the rack with a sharp metallic _click_ , and heels tapped the tile as she made her exit.

Me? I couldn't move. Last time the three of us stood in the same room, _in this house,_ I'd been nine.

Father stood, stoic as ever. Hands tight behind his back. Chin up. Shoulders straight under his silk jacket. "Adrien?" He regarded me from over his shoulder. "You should change out of those clothes and return them to Miss Beauchêne."

"My clothes?"

"Now, Adrien."

At times there are moments that meet you where the decision you make will touch your future. They can change everything or nothing. In that moment I knew I could choose to stand my ground. To speak up. To fight. And boy, I'd been aching to fight him somehow. The man that held my freedom. The man that owned my life, my future.

Instead I backed away. Maybe my legs moved of their own accord. All I know is, once I was walking, I didn't have the courage to stop. My steps only faltered when I drew within arm's reach of her. My mother.

I'd dreamed of this moment. That she'd come back. Come home. To _me._

This was nothing like those dreams. I watched her, breath caught. She met my gaze with a steady look, green eyes a myriad I couldn't read. And then I was outside. The double doors closed behind me.

I stood frozen in the hall, something bordering panic caught in my chest. It was pulling me under. I would have sat down, too dizzy to keep myself up, but a gentle voice pulled me from my thoughts. As sure as she'd pulled me from the cusp of submerging underwater.

"Adrien?" Harper lowered her cell to her side. "You alright, hon?"

I swallowed, and the spinning slowed a bit. It took everything in me to nod. "Yeah." And then, my eyes drifted to the grand staircase. "Be right back."

Perhaps running away wasn't the best way to assure Harper I was in a stable state of mind. But really. . . I wasn't. As if being drawn by a cord, I rushed into my room and rounded the couch to look out the paneled windows. "Plagg," I called. "Get out here."

The sleepy kwami drifted to my side, his mouth curled in distaste. "What is it now?"

" _Transforme moi!"_

I'd never been so grateful for such catlike abilities. That I was able to creep soundlessly along the height of the mansion, until I found a niche of mangled ivy outside of my Father's office. I leaned in, shoulders tense, tail curled at my side. My heightened sense of hearing picked up on the voices through the glass, and my breath turned thin, my mouth dry.

"Did you get my letter?" Mom asked.

"Yes. I received the letter."

Her poise broke, giving way to an outburst of desperation. If her grace made her an angel, she had just fallen. "You're the only one that can save him, Gabriel."

Who? Me? Someone else?

The malicious tone my Father took on sent chills through me, as if I weren't under the sun of a summer's day. "That's not true. Ladybug and Chat Noir are Paris' heroes. Do you really have such little faith in them?"

"They're only children."

"And as far as you're concerned, I'm simply a business man. I'm sorry, but I don't believe I can help you."

"Won't. You _won't_ help me." I caught a glimpse of Mom rushing toward the door, a storm in her green eyes, if I ever I saw one. "I knew it was a mistake to come here."

Panic flared again. I wouldn't let her go, wouldn't let her leave again. There had to be something I could say. It was this thought that drove me to chase after her.

Her steps took her past the Dupain and Cheng's bakery, toward the hotel. Of course I couldn't drop down from the roofs in my ears and suit and demand anything of her. Maybe I could rush ahead and intercept her as Adrien. And then. . . then what?

I didn't know what I wanted to say to her. I only knew she was the one I never got to say goodbye to. Maybe it was a childish fact, but I still clung to it like my claws in brick as I scaled the building opposite Le Grand Paris. This was prying at a wound that never healed the way it should have. Still I bent to a crouch in the black iron cover of a fire escape, peering between bars to watch as the woman strode into the hotel. Seconds behind, something dark flickered along the tan stone of the entrance. As I startled up to catch a better view, a poorly placed ladder rung knocked into my head.

" _Ow,"_ I winced.

By the time I recovered whatever it was, trick of the light or skilled assassin, had vanished.

I grabbed vengefully at the ladder and used it to pull myself off my backside to my feet. My tail swished along the grated metal, buckle jingling at the contact.

Was it fair for my mother to appear after seven years of absence, and not so much as speak to me? Following her had been a mistake. . . She didn't _want_ to see me. I was chasing a ghost.

It was then, some unknown force, perhaps my cat sense tugged my eyes straight ahead, to meet the gaze of someone who was already watching me.

"Mom?"

The word stole its way out again, a whisper, a flutter.

She stood on a balcony on the second floor, of what I assumed her room. Shadow though I was, even from across the street, I knew it was me she stared at.

"Don't panic," I mumbled, and fiddled uselessly with my baton. "Just play it cool. She doesn't know you were following her. . ." Or did she? As I lifted a hand to pull my signature salute, wink, and disappear act, she beat me with a wave. My gloved hand froze, only halfway to its intended destination. I'd no choice but to wave back.

"You're Chat Noir, right?" she called out, loud enough to carry to me, and then some. A few tourists, and a young couple toting shopping bags slowed, their attention drawn up and cell phones soon pulled out. "The Protector of Paris? You help people?"

I let a short puff of air out my nose. This _really_ wasn't the way I imagined our reunion going. But Chat Noir was nothing if not flexible. I stepped up onto the railing, an artful act of balance, fully aware of the eyes and cameras trained on me. It was probably already on twitter, instagram and whatever else the onlookers happened to use. Though the only eyes I seemed to care about in that moment, were green.

The smile on my face that followed was big enough, real enough, that my photographers would have dueled for the shot. I gathered myself, and with a well timed swing of my baton, I hurtled across the street and to the balcony of Le Grand Paris.

"You've got the right cat." I met her gaze through unkempt hair, eyes fully cat, sharp and a bit untamed. "Do you happen to need assistance, Madam?"

 _She only came to get something from Father._

Face to face, I realized I wasn't the only one wearing a mask. She really was hiding something. Or someone.

 _But she isn't here for me. Seven years of nothing. Until now. Why?_

Green flittered up to inspect me, as if to weigh whether or not to trust me.

I couldn't help but claw for a wild, desperate hope.

 _Please trust me._

She took off the slip of royal blue on her feet, slinging the heels from two fingers at her side. Her other hand curled around the rail, and a weary sigh slipped past her lips. "There are enough people in the world that need saving. Don't waste your time on me, kid."

There it was again. As if calling Chat Noir "just a kid" wasn't enough to ruffle my fur, she was going to refuse my help. She was shutting me out.

"Well." I couldn't help how my voice dipped lower, my eyes grew sharper. "You must not know a lot about Chat Noir _or Ladybug._ We never think helping someone is a waste of time."

She tilted her head, taking in the cityscape, a smoldering, a bitterness peaking out from behind her mask. "You could spend every moment of each day fighting ne'er do wells," she whispered. "And still find a city of people that need saving."

 _And I thought my Father was a pessimist._

"I guess that's why I won't stop. Why I can't." I shifted to sit on the railing, and let my feet dangle over the street. "Look. . . I can't force you to tell me what's wrong, but I swear, if you let me I'll do anything to help you."

Her mouth curled. "Anything?"

"Anything."

"Something. . . something is following me."

"What is it?" I thought back to tailing her here. "When did it start?"

"I noticed them first a month ago. Whatever it is, it's nothing normal."

I leaned forward, pupils wide. "Who are they?"

"Shadows."

* * *

I wasn't ashamed to say I missed my lady, so much it was a physical ache in my chest. It was the tether to my thoughts, my mind that still raced. It didn't take me long to choose my next destination. It didn't take me long to reach it. The bakery was only streets away. In some intuitive way I knew I needed her. Mari always had a way of grounding me.

I hesitated on her balcony, collecting myself. I didn't come to talk about my mom. Didn't come to be a burden to her. I just needed a safe place. Mari was safe. Always.

This truth spurred me to rap on the trapdoor as a warning before I dropped in. Sharp eyes, still fed by my miraculous took in the room. It was no surprise to find her at her desk. Though I'll admit, I didn't expect her to be asleep at this hour. She was slumped forward, head nestled in her folded arms, among an array of papers. It wasn't homework, as we were on break, but it looked to be research of some kind. Her sketchbook lay open, fresh designs still warm on the page.

Four, tiny padded feet sounded against the floor. Morte came waddling over, and followed at my heels as I crossed the room. He sniffed, then sneezed and cast a look of suspicion up at me. This was the first time he'd encountered me in cat form, and I was struck with a surge of panic, that he may start to bark, and alert Marinette's parents that something was amiss. Morte just continued on his way, the tag of his collar jingling when he gave a little shake. I supposed I smelled enough like the me he knew he didn't deem me a threat.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when a fluttery voice piped up, right at my side. "Bonjour, Chat Noir."

I whirled to look over at the red kwami, and swallowed, trying to compose myself. "Tiki! Hey." She answered with a twinkly smile, something magic and mysterious in her eyes that only came with age. I glanced pointedly at Mari. "How long's she been out?"

"Fifteen minutes, I believe." She drifted closer to her master. "But she's been half asleep ever since she got back from babysitting."

"Manon?"

Tiki offered a nod of sympathy. "Mhm. Marinette says that child has more spunk than Chat Noir and Alya combined."

I allowed a corner of my mouth to quirk at that. My gaze never left her slumped shoulders and drooped head. Her hair had come to drape over her face, so it was obscured from view. Her uniform pigtails weren't in place, and my eyes snagged on soft, dark locks. I drew closer and crouched beside her chair, much like I had the other night. Only this time I didn't disturb her, just drew near enough to confirm she was sleeping. My ears easily took in the steadiness of her deep breaths.

Morte came over once again, and rested his head on my knee, brown eyes shining up at me. I spared him a stroke behind the ears. "Be real quiet, alright?" I kept my voice low, still he seemed to listen toe very word. "We wouldn't want to wake her."

Though if she managed to sleep through into the night in this state, she'd have a killer stiff neck tomorrow. It was only knowing this, that I could bring myself to rise to my feet, and bend down to scoop her up. I tried to be gentle, quiet enough not to rouse her.

Too late I saw the chaise lounge was covered in rolls of fabric and a garment bag. As my arms were already full, I decided against trying to clear the surface off, and instead, strode for the stairs up to her bunk.

Tiki watched with round eyes, a hand over her mouth, as if it would help somehow not to wake her. Morte only watched, most curious about this turn of events. Though he didn't try and venture up the stairs.

It was then that Mari finally began to take notice she'd been moved. Her eyes blinked, and shut, then blinked open again. "Kitty?" Her voice came out sleep slurred, but boy, she was adorable.

I gently lay her down into the softness of her covers. "Hey, sleeping beauty."

"What are you doing here?"

I was reminded instantly of the weight pressing on my heart. I knew she wouldn't see it that way. As me being a burden for sharing. She was too good, too kind to think of it that way. But now, another part of me was ashamed to tell her. I was so fractured, and she was so whole, and lovely, and really. . . My heart swelled, because she was everything good in life.

I marveled at whatever fate had brought us together. Whatever luck had crashed our two worlds together, had given us a new one to puzzle out. If I hadn't defied Father and gone to Dupont, if someone had been chosen to wield my miraculous in my place. . .

I reached out, almost to prove to myself she was really there. My gloved hand wandered to her loose hair, and though I couldn't feel it against my skin, I was mesmerized by the sway of raven strands as they collected to frame her face.

She ran a hand through her mussed hair, as if to repair any damage. "Chat, did anyone see you?"

My tail flicked in response. "Of course not."

"You need to be careful," she said, strained.

"I'm always careful–"

"Alya saw you this morning."

My stomach dropped at the disappointment so obviously displayed in her face, blue eyes clouded with worry. The last thing I ever wanted to see. Ever wanted her to be. Disappointed in _me._ I would have stumbled back, if I were standing. As it was, I nearly fell over the side of her bunk. "Wh. . . _what?"_

"She saw you leave my balcony. Oh. . . Chat. I'm sorry. It's as much my fault as yours." And now, I saw this disappointment was in _herself,_ and it was almost worse that way _._ "We should have been more careful–"

I caught her hand in mine. "Mari. . . I'm so sorry." I swallowed. "W-what did you tell her?"

"I couldn't lie." Her lips pursed. "Well, not _completely._ She saw you. But I just told her we were. . . friends," she bit out. "I'm not sure if she completely bought it, though. Not after she caught us on the balcony."

The room fell silent, save Morte's wheezing from the corner. It sounded as though he'd fallen asleep. I could do nothing but stare, intent o nher pale hand in my gloved one. Almost unconsciously, I rubbed my thumb in a circular motion, though I'm not sure if it was to comfort her or myself. ". . . So what do we do?"

She didn't speak, but I saw the cogs turning in her mind. She seemed to be gathering thoughts, even the courage to speak up. "Maybe. . . maybe you shouldn't come around anymore."

"But how will I see you?" While my hearing was near perfect, far above average, at least, I couldn't believe I'd heard her right. _"Mari."_

She slipped her hand from mine, and mimicked my posture, drawing her knees up, and hugged herself tight. "We'll work something out, I guess," she whispered.

"Mari, c'mon."

"Don't make this harder for me." I caught the faintest of sniffles. "Please?"

Then I did the only thing I knew to do. I ran.

* * *

By now the sun had dropped below the skyline. I felt dead on my feet as I paused at the top of the last flight of stairs. Though I'd only been to Nino's apartment a handful of times, I managed to find my way here. Without the mask.

 _Do I even have a right to come here?_

The two of us hadn't so much as spoken, so much exchanged a text since Mari and I "broke up".

I knocked on the dull emerald painted door and waited in the silence of the dimmed hall. It opened to flood the corridor with light, warm and golden like honey. A smile and deep brown eyes greeted me. "Hello."

"Um, you're Isra, right?" I dug my hands into my jean's pockets, too shy to meet her gaze more than a few quick glances. "Nino's sister?"

"Yes." Isra brushed at the vibrant blue fabric concealing her hair, and I felt those same warm eyes inspect me before her own gaze dropped to the floor. She held the door open wider. "You should come in." She let out a faint sigh. "It's good you're here."

"Uh." I tugged off my orange sneakers, and my eyes darted past her into the living space and the kitchenette, colorful rugs and shelves of plants painting the space. "Really?"

"Maybe you can snap him out of this." She shut the door, shaking her head. "It's been almost three days already–"

"Since what? What's wrong?" Any anxiety I felt, afraid of being unwelcome fled. "Is he okay?"

"Oh." She abruptly turned to face me. "You. . . you don't know?"

"It's." I swallowed. "We've sort of, uh. I haven't talked to him for awhile, I guess."

Isra folded her hands together, unable to mask the disappointment in her voice. "Oh."

"Can I see him?"

She motioned down the hall, toward Nino's bedroom. "Don't know what you'll find, but go ahead. He's barely left his room since Friday."

I inched past her. "Thank you." With that, I ducked away, socks soft against the rainbow of rugs that patched the hallway. I rapped a knuckle against his door. "Nino? It's me. Adrien?"

After a long beat of nothing, footsteps padded from the other side, coming closer. "Adrien?"

"Yeah." My voice dropped. "I know I didn't text, or anything. I just. . .wanted to talk."

The door opened. There was no yellow light streaming into the hall. This time it was the hum of blue light in a darkened room. City glow peeked in through old, cracked blinds.

Dark eyes, numb and tired stared back at me. "Hey."

My nose wrinkled at a smell that would rival Plagg's choice food. Nino retreated into the cavern he called home. Socks and other garments, undeterminably dirty or clean, littered the floor. Unwashed dishes, bowls, and emptied to go drinks had made a home on his desk. The window had been left open a crack, the thrum of traffic sneaking in. That smell wasn't going anywhere fast, though.

He slumped back into his unmade bed without a word, pulling the duvet over him in a way that was distinctly turtle like.

"Nino, did something happen?"

"What did you come to talk about?"

"Seriously, what's wrong?" I braved a step closer. "It smells like something died in here."

Nino poked his head out enough to give me a dry look. "Oh. Just my heart."

"Okay. . . you need to shower. And tell me what's going on. You're not okay, dude."

"Yeah." He shrugged, the covers falling away as he shifted into a sitting position. "You're probably right. It's time to move on."

"Move on from what, Nino?"

He reached to his nightstand, where his glasses sat. Slowly, he eased them back on. He looked a little more like Nino after that. Then he took a deep inhale, and took his time letting it back out. Shoulders slumped, he finally replied. "Move on from Alya." He fidgeted again with his glasses. "We. . . we broke up."

"That's. . . you're serious?" There had to be a way to fix this. This was just one of their arguments blown out of proportion. It had to be. "But why?"

His eyes flicked to me, his silence enough to scream the truth.

 _No._

"This is my fault."

"Dude. Don't."

Hands shaking, I took a step back. "I-I'm so sorry. I'm _so sorry."_

"Adrien." Nino left the bed. "Man, stop."

I couldn't. I couldn't stop. All I could do was run.

Isra jumped at the sound of Nino's bedroom door being thrown open. Her eyes only grew wider as she watched me rush to the door to stuff my feet back in my shoes. "Adrien, what is wrong?" She spun to face her brother, who had followed me out. "Nino, what did you say to him?"

"I didn't!"

"You made him cry, Nino!"

I froze. I dropped my second sneaker, barely registering the thud it made. My hand came to inspect the side of my face instead. Crying? And I didn't know how to make it stop.

"Adrien," Nino approached me like he'd been put in a cage with a tiger. "Why did you come here?"

I didn't come to be a burden. I didn't come to be the worst friend ever. I never wanted to cause a rift between two of my best friends. I never wanted to run. I just didn't know what else to do. I didn't know where else to go.

"Something is wrong," Isra breathed. She kept her distance, but her soft voice drifted towards me, across the kitchen, slipping right through the cracks in my wall. "Adrien, whatever is going on, we will help you. Right, Nino?"

"Yeah. C'mon, man. I'm always here."

"She came back."

Nino and Isra spoke up in sync. "Who?"

I blinked, and much like the tears, everything spilled out at once.

* * *

After a host of pep talks from Nino and Isra, and Plagg's constant whining saying I was brooding, I had given in. I asked Chloe to get me the telephone number of her hotel room, and called my Mom to set up a meeting, or a get together, or a reuinion. Whatever you called it, it was still terrifying. I second guessed constantly. But I knew if I backed out, if I shut down and shut her out, I'd regret it for pretty much forever. Plus, if something dangerous really was following her, getting close enough to watch over her was important for her safety, if not merely my conscience.

So that's how I ended up on the terrace off her room at Le Grand Paris. . . again. This time as my plain old self. No suit, no mask. I sat back in my chair, one hand gripped tight around my glass of water, the other clenched in my lap beneath the table. A warm breeze swept over the balcony to disturb the stillness. _Awkward. This is getting awkward. Say something._

As time stretched on, my boldness as Chat Noir had rubbed off on Adrien. I became more me, more free to express every wild, every silly thought. Though as my Lady will attest, it's not always wit and charm.

"This, uh, water is nice." I swallowed, throat dry. _Idiot. I've not drunk any of it yet._

The woman seated across from me, ankles crossed, petite shoulders squared, met my nervous glance with a steady, green gaze. "Yes. Refreshing."

Whatever I expected this brunch to be. . . well it wasn't that. It was. . . weird. Though the memories had turned foggy over time, I could still recall the good times we'd shared. She'd been a friend, a mother, a comfort and shelter of sorts. She'd stood with me through tough times. And loved me, perhaps.

But she left. She left _me._ And now, the woman sitting across me was a stranger.

It wasn't what I'd wanted. I'd wanted the ease, the safety, the pieces to fit just right.

"So, this may be an awkward question," she began.

I blinked, eyes coming up from my shoes tucked beneath the table, unsure how the situation could possibly get more awkward than it was already, short of me blabbing about my heroic alter ego.

"I'm just. . . curious." For the first time, her mask faltered. My hand slackened, just a bit, at the thought that maybe she was just as uncomfortable as I was. Her gaze, now shy, but with a spark of decisiveness met me. "Are you happy? Living with your Father?"

"Me?"

Her mouth quirked. "Yes, you, _ma lumi_ _è_ _re."_

My stomach dropped, and suddenly I was cold, and a spike of bittersweet hit me. _My light. My sun._ That's what she used to call me. Something hot pricked at my eyes, but I blinked, and set my jaw, floundering for an answer. Was I happy, really?

These past couple months, I'd never been happier. But of course, this wasn't because of anything Father had done. "He's. . . okay, I guess." Though with each passing day, I began to doubt more and more whether he cared at all for anyone. Anyone but himself. "We don't see much of each other, except through modeling, and stuff. He's pretty busy with his company."

"Doesn't surprise me," she said, without a hint of bitterness to boot. Simply resigned, accepting. And perhaps, with a hint of understanding. Was this true, or another act? "Gabriel has always been focused on work." She gave me a pointed look. "Meanwhile, the things that really matter, well. . ." She shook her head. "They just slip on by. And look at you. Fifteen?"

I bit down to keep back an angry _"and where were you?"_ Father may have been distant but at least he _stayed._ "I'll be sixteen in about a month."

"Such a handsome young man. Do you like it? Modeling, I mean."

"Well. . . I don't know. I don't mind it. It's just. . . something to do. And it helps Father." I'd never given it much thought beyond that. I'd grown up in front of the cameras. I'd resigned my fate to being subject to gossip, to the adoration of fans, to the prying. "I mean, I don't know that I'd want to do it forever. . ." I frowned. _But then what?_

"And you shouldn't have to."

Whatever corner she'd been about to back me into, I managed to get out free. Some great force shook the earth, jostling our glasses. Water and wine slopped over the side and pooled onto the red table cloth. And then there was another, and a third quake.

Mom whipped her head, to look out over the city. "What could that have been?"

I knew already, of course. "Uhm. Mom? We should. . ." My heart skipped at the sight of scarlet dancing through the sky. Ladybug paused on a shop rooftop, yoyo in hand, sights set on something along the horizon.

"Is that Ladybug?" Mom pointed. "It's her!"

Said hero spared a glance down. A moment, stretched long like the space that separated us, passed with her blue eyes on me before she finally looked at my Mom.

 _Uh oh._

Time wound up again, as Ladybug picked up enough momentum to swing over to our terrace. She landed right beside me, and before I full registered what was happening she had a hand on my arm. "You need to get to safety," she said, though her words didn't seem to stick, only float past.

I looked down at her grip on me, then snapped my gaze up to meet hers. "Okay."

She gave one last look at my mother, and I would have slugged through every fountain in Paris to scrape up enough pennies to know what was going on behind that mask. She took off, yoyo whirring, even as another thunderous quake rocked the city.

As Mom and I hurried inside, she gave me a calculating look. "So. . .you know Ladybug, huh?"

The way she said it, so casual. Almost _slyly._ I took a deep breath. There was no point in panicking. She didn't _know_ anything. Least not yet. And I wanted it to stay that way. _At least for now._ "I guess you've seen what's in the news."

"Oh, but that's just gossip." She closed the sliding glass doors behind us. "However the footage I saw from the attack at Gabriel's building, and several months back when she saved you from falling off the tower was real enough." Her green eyes twinkled, and not in a sweet way. There I was back in a corner again. Where was an akuma when you needed one? "There is something going on, right? Tell me what's she's like. _Really,_ I mean."

While I would've liked nothing more than to spend an afternoon going on about how wonderful Ladybug was, there was still an akuma running loose. One she was currently facing alone. "I. . . I'll be back." I almost offered showering as an excuse, for old time's sake, but I grappled for something else. "I just need to. . . make sure Chloe is safe." And I hightailed it out of there, like the fate of Paris rested on my shoulders. Because it did.

What I failed to see, was the shadow that followed me.


	12. Act Two: V

_a/n: I know I'm late again. Thank you all for being such patient and loyal readers uwu_

* * *

I grit my teeth, arms strained to keep a hold on the akuma. I managed to wind my yoyo around it, pinned to a street lamp. _Tremblement de Terre_ struggled further, his bushy eyebrows pulling together above the cracked gray of his mask as he growled from the exertion. The cement around his boots split and the pole groaned under the stress.

 _He'll be here._ My hand burned from my grip on the wire. _I can count on him. He's never let me down before._ But I couldn't help the pang of doubt that sprang up, knowing Chat Noir hadn't shown yet because he was busy having tea with his mom. The woman who disappeared years ago. _And he didn't think it mattered enough to tell me?_

"Tell me," Tremblement de Terre said in arrogance, as if I didn't have him bound. "Where is the cat?"

"Obviously not here," I bit. For now, I'd let the anger boil, and channel it into making sure this akuma didn't hurt anyone.

"Then I will have _your_ Miraculous." He pushed his shoulders forward, to strain against the cord that held him. "And find the cat later."

As if the street became the sea, a great wave rose up, and the ground parted around me. The street lamp's support caved, and Tremblement jumped free. He swept his arm in a motion, and the building behind me roared in reply. The brick snapped, and a mass of the building tumbled down.

I might have made it, had my balance been right. But the sidewalk still trembled under my feet, disorienting me. The dust choked me, and its shadow swallowed me up.

A dark shape flitted past, and I had just enough awareness to catch it from the corner of my eye. It was coming for me. Arms, familiar, caught me up and carried me out of danger. The building crashed forward and spilled into the street, mangling abandoned vehicles. A cloud of dust swelled, a cough wracked me and my eyes stung, but when it passed, I was left curled in his arms.

"That was a close one." Chat Noir peered down at me. "Are you alright?"

I blinked, fuming and weak with relief all at once. "Where have you been?" He set me on my feet, but left a hand cradled around my elbow. "Didn't you realize there was an akuma wrecking the city?!"

"Of course." His acid eyes turned sharp. "I just wanted to make sure she was safe before. . ." His grip on my arm tightened ever so slightly. "I know you're probably mad at me for–"

"Later."

His hand fell away. The street turned deathly quiet, my snap at my partner ringing in my ears. I bit at my lip, regret a bitter thing to taste. My kitty must have had his reasons too keep it from me. I had passed judgment without even giving him a chance to explain.

"Ah," the akuma crooned. "I see the stray finally decided to show up." Through the haze of dust, even in the confines of this narrow street, it was impossible to place him. "That was a mistake, young cat."

I braced myself for the quip Chat would shoot back. Undoubtedly packed with puns. But there was simply silence. I whipped around, only to find the space beside me empty. It was then I caught a flash of black along the rooftops.

The familiar weight of my yoyo helped to ground me. My fingers curled around the shell, as I swung back and whipped it toward the gutter of an obliging home. I found Chat crouched behind a chimney stack, peering down at Tremblement as he crossed the pavement below. I crept close to my partner, and while my hand found a perch on his shoulder, he still refused to look at me.

"Hey." I swallowed at the grit that had found its way into my throat. "I should never have spoken to you like that. You're here now, and that's what matters."

He went rigid under my touch, as if every muscle had tensed. "Ladybug–"

"I'm _trying_ to apologize."

"No, _look_." He lurched forward to roost on the edge of the roof. "I saw it!"

"Saw what?"

His tail curled at his feet as he stretched out a clawed finger to point at a cluster of brick apartments. "I saw _the shadow._ Did you see it? I knew it was real!"

"Chat, what are you talking about? What's going on?"

"I don't know. But I need to find out." His voice dropped, along with my heart. "I'm sorry."

"Wait, don't!" I tried to reach out for him, but he evaded me, slipping away like whatever phantom he saw. "I can't do this alone," I shouted.

There was no way to know if he heard my last plea to stay. I simply knew that now he was gone.

 _Get your head in the game, Ladybug._

"I can rock this," I whispered to myself. "We're just shaking things up a little this time."

The puns were a weak reach for a form of comfort, to grasp what little ghost of my kitten I could. It did little to stir my courage. I was alone.

A hulking shadow swallowed me, cast by the akuma looming behind. I realized too late, and he swung his fist, strength striking me with enough force to send me hurtling from the roof toward the sidewalk below.

The fall was too short, too sudden for me to try and stop it with my yoyo. I landed knees and arms curled in, and my shoulder drove into concrete, sending a shattering jolt through my suit from my toes to my jaw. My ears rang, the pain loud enough to drown my surroundings out for a good few seconds. By then, Tremblement had made his way back to the ground.

A moan battled its way from my chest as I pushed past the pain and unfurled my limbs. "You. . . you can't win, you know."

"You of all people should know how easy it is to crush an insect." As I found my feet, he began a circular motion, as if his hands traced some unseen sphere. It was the most graceful I'd seen him, and yet it didn't seem to be yielding any results. I took it as my chance to close in on him. It was time to pounce.

" _Lucky Charm!"_

Something fragile in comparison to the brick and stone I faced dropped into my hands. A rose tinted, lidded glass jar. I spun a full circle, desperate to find the other pieces to this puzzle Tiki concocted, though my Ladybug vision didn't seem to be working. I took a step back, away from the akuma. Just as my foot touched down on the ground, I felt something swell around it in response. I looked down, as the pavement swirled around me, devouring me up. Tremblement now moved to stirring the motion with the full length of his arm. There wasn't much use in fighting it, as it remained as resistant as rock.

Cement swallowed me, and I was helpless to stop it. Helpless to figure out how to use the lucky charm even as the stone prison closed over my shoulders. Only my head stayed free of its grip, so I was able to breath, but move little more than my neck. My muscles screamed as I tried to fight the cocoon. But it was no use.

Tremblement de Terre pressed toward me, the cracked surface of his gray suit dusted further with debris. "Look what I've caught." His eyes gleamed and the violet mask appeared, glowing, and cast neon over his face. "A little bug, all alone."

My breathing grew erratic. No amount of panic would break through the cement. A chill made my spine quiver against my concrete prison, knowing he could have buried me alive if he wanted. But it wasn't. He wanted my earrings in easy grasp.

" _No."_ I tried desperately to hope Chat would come back. That he would appear any moment. "You really believe you're going to win this, Hawkmoth?" I spat. "I think we all know who's _truly_ alone. As long as I'm alive, I will _never_ stop fighting you."

Tremblement paused, his silence more frightening than the tantrum I'd braced myself for. Hawkmoth was rarely at a loss for words. Finally, he leveled his chin, the mask still aglow. "Perhaps it's time for this to end."

His hand, tremoring, from fear, or from Hawkmoth's will, reached out to me, to the side of my face. His filthy hand caught me by the ear. I pressed my teeth together, as furious tears slipped over my mask, and left trails behind on my dust covered skin.

And then, the sound of something sharp in the air grew close and closer, and before I had time to process what it was, or where it was coming from, it sliced into the akuma, through his back, and drove him against the pillar of cement. I tilted my head down as far as I could manage, to catch sight of the sun glint off something metal and iridescent, before blood began to pool over the surface, obscuring it from view.

It had hit straight through the man's heart. I held frozen by more than stone, lungs bursting, as the realization that he was no longer breathing filtered in. My hearing dulled, and a part of my brain recognized that I was slipping into shock.

The presence of others brought me out of it. Lights of emergency vehicles and the sound of machinery blurred through my senses. Then there was a voice that spoke to me, asking if I was alright.

 _I don't care how long it takes. I will find who did this, and I will make them pay._

Tremblement de Terre hadn't been a real name any more than Lady Wifi or the Puppeteer. This man had family and friends. People that _loved_ him. And he had done nothing do deserve Hawkmoth's wrath. To deserve this death.

"Ladybug?" My eyes focused on a young man, perhaps in his mid twenties, in a medic's uniform. The greenness of his eyes sent another shock through me, though it seemed to bring me more awake. "Can you hear me? Everything's alright, we'll have you free soon." Tears pricked at my eyes, maybe from the gentleness in his voice. "Just stay with me."

"No."

He gave me a look of concern. "No?"

My voice was dry, choked by dust. _"_ _No."_ I swallowed. "Everything's _not_ alright."

The machine they used to chip away at the concrete whirred to life again, loud enough that the man couldn't reply. My eyes dropped toward the ground. Others had come to remove the body, and set it in a stretcher, draped with a sheet.

"I'm Nic," the nurse said, as the machine lulled. "I. . . already know your name. Well, what everyone calls you, at least."

The workers broke away the rock restricting my shoulders. Some strength came back to my arms, and I helped a bit, able to break my own left arm free. The hand that still held the unused jar.

"Careful there." Nic put a hand on my shoulder. "Stay still until we get you checked out."

"I'm fine," I said, voice low.

For the first time pain flickered in his eyes. He glanced at the crowd of people around us, then looked back at me, as if I were the only one present. "Hey, Miss. . . Ladybug. You need to promise me something."

"A promise?"

"Promise me," he said, "you won't blame yourself for this."

"GET BACK." The workers, and medics, and officers all snapped to attention, and some more shouts rang out. "IT'S FREE."

Nic whipped around, and I craned my neck to see around him, and caught sight of some dark creature shooting from under the corpse's sheet. The people carrying the stretcher scattered, and police began shoveling out orders. My eyes glazed as I watched the freed akuma stutter in the wind, its wings tattered. It was different than any akuma I'd seen before, gray and dripping some dark magic like pixie dust turned evil. It drifted closer, dropping further and further to the ground, unable to bare the burden of its own weight.

"Nic," I breathed. _"Run."_

He was the only one that remained unmoved. The one that stayed. He turned back to me and immediately went to clawing at the concrete that still held me back. "I have to get you out."

"No, what you have to do is get out of here. It's coming for us, and I can't get to my yoyo." My hand tightened around it, still held captive by rock. "I won't lose anyone else."

His eyes pinned me better than any stone prison could. For a split moment, the only thing I could see when I looked at him was Chat, was Adrien. "Sorry, Ladybug. I can't do that. I won't leave you."

And then, as I still stood recovering from his statement, he wrenched the glass jar from my hand and whipped to face the akuma, just as it flew right for him. I was helpless to do anything but watch. To watch as Nic ran toward the wicked thing, without super powers, without a miraculous, but simply a breakable jar and far more courage than I could manage in that moment. He swiftly scooped the butterfly out of the air into the glass container, and snapped the lid into place.

In the following stillness, my heart beat so fast it could have jumped out and run a marathon all on its own. "You. . . You did it."

Nic looked unbelieving down at the trapped creature. Already weakened, it bat uselessly at the magical jar. "I did it?"

The place quickly flooded with those that had fled. Soon enough I was freed. Nic was quick to offer me the jar. "Thank you, Nic. You're a hero."

He shrugged, a bit of blush warming his face. "I think we both know who the real hero is. Or really, heroine."

My heart dropped. I didn't deserve the admiration in his eyes, aimed right at me. Nic thought I was a heroine. But I was just a regular girl. I was scared, scared out of my mind, and so clumsy, and I made mistakes. Big ones sometimes. Like today.

I transferred the tattered akuma to the compartment in my yoyo. There had to be a way to fix this. I traced a finger over the surface of glass. Maybe my powers of restoration could do more than mend a few broken buildings and smashed cars. Maybe. . .

I bolted after the stretcher, with my yoyo hooked around my waist and the jar clutched tight under my arm. _"Wait."_

They slowed their pace, giving me looks that ranged from frightened to skeptical. "Ladybug?"

"I. . . I have to try and fix this." I swallowed back at the tears that crept into my eyes. With a trembling hand, I pulled the sheet back to reveal the body of the former akuma. I hefted the jar in hand, and gave the sky above a pleading look.

Footsteps came behind me, and Nic stilled at my side. "Ladybug? What are you doing?"

I tore my eyes away from the body. "I. . . I don't know if I can keep your promise." I met his painfully green eyes and braced myself like I'd stepped onto a battlefield. "But maybe I don't have to. Maybe I can fix this."

Wide eyes and silent lips surrounded me. Waiting to see what would come. Waiting to see something miraculous. Perhaps even, a miracle.

" _MIRACULOUS LADYBUG."_

The jar went up, and the swirling of magic ignited in the air. It carried bricks back into place and smoothed the asphalt under our feet. All over Paris, pieces were being put back together. But when the swarm flitted over the corpse, I knew something was _very_ wrong.

A sharp pain squeezed my heart. I cried out, and sank to my knees, uselessly grabbing at the sleeve of Nic's uniform as I went down. Something hot festered in my body, eating me, pulling me apart. The magic swelled around us, the magenta light growing bright to blinding.

And when it died, I had to wonder if I'd ever be able to stand again. Everything was weak, nothing was working. Nic grappled for my arms to pull me to my feet, but I just stumbled forward. "Did it work?" I rasped.

"Ladybug. . ." The paramedic eased my balance again. "You shouldn't have done that. Your. . . your suit."

I looked down at my arms and slowly turned my hands over to take in the dulled red and faded spots. "What. . .?"

"Are you okay?"

The repair that had been done to the street faltered before my very eyes. While it remained improved from the state that Tremblement de Terre had rendered it, it looked worn, scuffed somehow.

"Ladybug!"

I glanced across the police tape and spotted the source of the voice. Alya was there, camera at the ready, probably recording this whole thing gone terribly, terribly wrong. She was here and ready to get all the facts, as usual. All the painful facts.

I managed to give Nic a weary smile, and despite his protests, I parted ways with him. I stepped over the fractured surface of the road, splintered like glass, and drew within a few feet of the young reporter.

"Ladybug, what's going on?" she asked. "What went wrong with your super power? Why is your suit gray?" Her eyes flicked from the screen of her phone to me, worried but sharp with discernment. Alya was never one to sugarcoat things. "And where is Chat Noir?"

In hindsight, perhaps I should have expected it. But that last question was the last thing pressing on me. When it hit me, when it finally registered that he wasn't here, _when he should have been,_ it felt like the weight of the city on my shoulders.

 _Where were you, Adrien?_

"Well? Where did he go? Are you two still partners?"

"O-of course! He just, um, had to. . ."

Even coming up with a lie seemed to daunting a task to handle.

Alya pressed closer, and with her a million prying eyes. "Well?"

"He just had to. . . there was something else he had to do." My voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears. "Something he had to do. . . to protect someone." _Someone that he loves._

It was then that my communicator went off. A moment passed before I registered that it was _him_ calling. But who else would it be? I could count those able to reach Ladybug on one hand. It shouldn't have been so hard to wrap my head around it. "H-hello?"

"Are you alone?"

My eyes widened, and I glanced up at Alya. "One moment."

Alya had stopped recording at that point, her phone lowered to her side. She put her hand to the rise of her jeans at her hip and gave me a look heated to a glower. "I'll let you two work this out. But whatever is going on, I hope it was worth all this." There was a chill to her words to balance her expression. It was only then I remembered she had perfect cause to hate me. In her eyes, I hurt her friend. Had hurt me. "Until next time, Ladybug."

Shaken and dizzy, I tossed my yoyo, unable to face her a moment more. My takeoff was slurred, my landing a stumble. Whatever was going on, whatever magical explanation there was for this drain on my miraculous, I knew one thing. This was not good.

"Bug?"

I lifted my communicator to face Chat Noir, feeling short of breath even as I went on to reply. "Okay. I'm listening."

"Was that Alya I heard? What did she mean–"

"Just tell me what you found." I bit down, to stop myself from doing any further damage. I didn't want to yell at him. I didn't want to fight. I didn't have it in me to.

He blinked, quiet for a beat before he moved on. "I followed the shadow for blocks before I lost sight of it."

"Did you figure out what it was?" My mind went to the mystery murderer. I hadn't been able to shake this drive to track them down. "Or who it was?"

"It wouldn't let me get close enough to get a good look. I think they knew I was following. . . But Mari." His voice grew softer. "I followed it all the way to my _house."_

" _What?"_ I lost my footing trying to cross rooftops, and barely managed to catch myself from a two story drop. "Where are you? Are you safe?"

"On my roof." He glanced around. "I'm scared to transform. What if it's still watching?"

My earrings chirped, with only two spots remaining. I was just a couple streets from my parent's bakery now, and Adrien's house wasn't much farther. "Give me a couple minutes." But a couple minutes was all that I had. "I'm on my way, but I need to stop and recharge my batteries. Call my cell if you need anything before then. Okay?"

He gave a short nod. "Okay." Then his eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. "There hasn't been an earthquake in a while. Did you take care of the akuma, then?"

"It's. . . been taken care of."

A gentle smile overtook his face, his voice sugared with admiration I didn't deserve. "I knew you could."

"Gotta go." I knew it was rude to hang up on him the way I did, but I was wrestling with fresh tears that I didn't want him to see. To see how _angry_ I was. Why did everyone have so much faith in me? In Ladybug? Maybe after today, that would change. Everyone would see how big of a disaster, how terrible a savior I really was.

My miraculous blipped with a hasty warning. I was still a block away and didn't have much more Ladybug to give. Every lurch over the rooftops felt like skydiving without a parachute. The exertion made my body ache, as if it was all I could do to keep from letting the dizziness take over and the buzz in my bones drive my shaking hands to slip up and go _splat._

"Stay with me, Tiki," I begged, breathless as I ran along the eaves of a row of shops.

The bakery was never a more welcome sight. I dropped through the hatch to my bedroom and went straight to my wardrobe. Without ceremony, I yanked my sock drawer open, and pawed around for the ziploc of emergency cookies stashed near the back.

My transformation rolled away, leaving me to bare the full brunt of my injuries from the fight. Normally my powers did well at repairing any damage, but this battle had been anything but normal. Tiki withered into the palm of my hand, her bright eyes shut tight against the ache she must be baring for herself. I bit my lip at the dulled red and grayed spots she bore. Just like my suit.

"Oh, Tiki. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, M-marinette. S'not your fault. . ." Her drained form quivered in my hands, and she let out the daintiest of coughs. "I need. . ."

"I'll get you whatever you need, I swear. But Chat needs us first." I tugged the bag open and offered her a chocolate chip treat. "Here. Hopefully this will get you started."

"Marinette?" My Mama's voice carried from the kitchen. "Is that you up there?"

I closed my eyes, almost willing myself invisible, as if I could pretend I wasn't in fact here. Whatever it was she wanted, no matter how well she meant, was something I didn't have the time or energy for. Finally I willed myself to inch toward the trapdoor that led to the floor below. "Yes, Mama?"

"Come help me with supper," she called.

I groaned, and felt the bite in my side as I bent to swing the door open and shuffled down the stairway. The curtain was drawn back to let the sunlight in, and it warmed the room as much as the goodies baking in the oven. Something scrumptious simmered on the stovetop, with steam willowing from the covered pan. Mama had her back to me, her attention on the dough she folded along the countertop.

"I'm making your favorite! Dumplings." She brushed at the hair that had fallen in her face. "I didn't see you come in, hon."

"Oh. . . well I guess you must have missed me. I just got back."

The moment she turned I felt the whole of time slow. Her bubbly smile shattered when her eyes landed on me. ". . . Marinette?"

What a sight I must have been. I didn't need a mirror to tell my hair was mangled and full of cement dust, and my face covered in sweat and grime. "Mama, I–"

She lurched forward her arms around me in an instant. Her tight grip on me made me wince, but my own arms clutched tighter to her, because bruises or not, I would pay the price for a hug. "It was the akuma attack, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Mama."

Her nose buried into my shoulder as she gave me another squeeze. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

"I just. . . got caught in the middle. But I'm safe now."

She cupped my face with her hands, still covered in flour. "You shouldn't have gone anywhere near them. It's dangerous. Look at me, Marinette." Mama's eyes were furious but watery and I knew she was only scared for me. "I know having a super hero around to protect you might make you feel invincible–"

"Mama, please. I'm OK."

"I know." She held me tight again, as if afraid to let go. "But they may not always be able to look after you, dear. And it doesn't matter if you're close to them, you can still get hurt. All the more reason for you to stay far, far away from any akuma."

"C-close?"

"Alya told me you've been seeing him."

"WHAT?"

"Your Papa and I are worried, hon."

"Wait, _what?"_

"The footage that just went on the Ladyblog, when Ladybug said Chat Noir left to protect someone, she meant you, didn't she? Did he. . . ask you to keep it from us?" Mama squeezed my hands. "How long did you think you could hide from us, _mon chou?"_

A text alert chimed from my back pocket. Chat Noir's timing certainly reflected his association with bad luck. Mama must have seen it in my eyes.

"Is that him?"

"Mama, please."

"I'm worried about you. Have you heard what they're saying about him in the news?"

"It doesn't matter." I pulled away, in spite of her death grip on my wrist. And when I opened the unread message, I paled. It wasn't from Chat Noir, or Adrien. "I have to go."

"Marinette, don't, if it's dangerous, please stay–"

"I'll be fine. I'll be safe," I promised. "You don't need to understand, you just have to trust me."

As I retreated up to my bedroom, I glanced down at the screen of my phone.

[ _Master Fu: It is time the three of us met for tea._ ]

However casual, however pleasant it might have sounded, I knew better. This was urgent. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

* * *

Wind chimes and steam curled and shimmered in the sunlit bamboo parlor. Chat Noir mirrored my posture with crossed legs neatly and a chin up stance as we faced opposite Master Fu. His wrinkled hands gently poured hot liquid from an ancient tea pot, scrolled with dragons and flecked with gold. Wayzz hovered anxiously at his shoulder, not daring to break the silence but obviously dying to share his many, many worries with his old companion.

"We have lost a great battle today." At this, the man gave both of us a look that whispered of despair. It nearly broke down the wall I erected to keep everything in, to keep strong. But my eyes were dry. I'd cried all I could, and now there was only numbness. I hung my head as he went on. "And do not mistake me, for I don't mean an escaped shadow, or Hawkmoth's latest pawn, tragedy though it is." I felt Chat's eyes fall heavy on me, but I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze. If I did, then I'd surely shatter. "You have each failed one another, in some way, I think," Master Fu said, his words steeped in wisdom. "You gave up that which makes you strongest."

"What's wrong with me?" I whispered, voice hoarse, roughed from a treatment of dust and raw from my crying. "Why didn't my powers work? And why is Tiki sick, and my suit. . . it's gray?"

"Indeed, Ladybug."

Chat's gloved hand fluttered to my knee. "Will she be okay?"

Master Fu was silent as he poured a third cup, one for himself. "You attempted to revive the man overcome by the akuma, after his life was taken from him?"

My hands shook, and to stop them I anchored them to my knees, only to find that my partner's grip still remained. Our hands knocked together in a clumsy way, but slowly, our fingers wound together. "I tried. . . but I. I couldn't."

He stroked at the silver on his chin. "In doing so you used a great amount of the Ladybug miraculous' energy. And in being separated from Chat Noir and his miraculous, your power was tipped out of balance."

"And I do believe," Wayzz interjected, "that this was caused only in part by your physical distance. The souls of these two miraculous are miraculously tied together, and emotional distance can be dangerous, even crippling, in this case, resulting in a very dreadful–"

"Wayzz, my old friend." Master Fu set the tea pot down, his mouth a thin line. "Let us not overwhelm our guests. They have both had a difficult day."

"Apologies, Master." Wayzz bowed his little green head. "Forgive me, Ladybug, Chat Noir."

Weathered hands offered out the tea cups, and the warmth and scent seemed to help with the numbness and the trembling I couldn't seem to shake. "Perhaps this will help us to begin mending things. I hope you like tea. This brew," he said, a bit of twinkle in his wrinkled eyes, "is one of my own concoctions. I call it, _the tea of unity_."

The fragile cups clattered in our hands as we took our first, polite sips. Chat Noir took a deep sniff of the amber liquid. " _Xièxiè_ , thank you, Master Fu." After another long drink, he lowered it to the bamboo mat between us. "So. . . this happened because we were distance to each other?"

"It is hardly a coincidence that your powers have strengthened since you shared the knowledge of your identities with one another," he replied. "Your relationship has brought Ladybug and Chat Noir closer together, in more beautiful harmony."

The room fell quiet once more, incense whispering along the walls, and the midday sun creeping through the screened windows. It would have been peaceful, if not for the war ripping at my insides. The warm, golden drink slipped past my tongue and warmed in my belly, but I still felt sick from ghosts of memories, of nightmares from earlier. I felt far from any semblance of harmony, beautiful or not.

My grip tightened dangerously on the glazed porcelain, so fragile. It would be easy to break. "Why. . . why did you leave me?" The words barely escaped my trembling lips, but if Chat Noir's hearing still worked, if we weren't too "emotionally distanced" for his super ears to function, than he had heard me just fine. But he didn't answer. Or say anything. I whipped to face him, feeling like a storm roiling beneath the suit. Our tranquil surroundings did little to placate me, instead riding me with guilt because I was not in control. I was _burning._ "Well? Don't just sit there." He watched me, green eyes truly like acid. "Say something, _stupid cat._ " I clapped my hands over my mouth, filled with instant regret at the sharp words that had clawed their way out.

Wayzz zipped out of view, as if startled, or too horrified to watch.

 _No, no, no._ "I. I'm sorry, I didn't. . . I'm not. . ." Just like any storm, I could not hold back my tears. They came again, fresh and biting as the last bout.

Master Fu was surprisingly calm. He didn't seem angry at my outburst. In fact, I saw a glisten in his own eyes before my sight blurred. "Forgive me. I should have allowed you both privacy before we discussed these matters." He retrieved his cane from the floor at his side, and slowly rose to his feet. "Take all the time you need." As he made his way beyond the barrier of Chinese screens, Wayzz came out of his hiding spot from an antique table and was quick to make an exit.

Chat Noir was unmoving, until he abruptly pushed his tea aside, enough that some sloshed from the cup into its saucer. He rose to a crouch, inching closer. Hands, gentle in spite of their strength cupped my face. His eyes burned into mine, and while I was quick to assume it was anger directed at me, he quickly showed me what he truly felt. "I shoulder never have left you."

I found myself lost between a need to run and a need for him to hold me. In the end, my hands grappled for him, desperate to prove that he was _here_ and _safe._ What mattered more than anything, was that he was here now. My fingers brushed at his sensitive ears, and combed through his wild hair.

"Mari?" he whispered. "Tell me about the fight." His words were gentle, almost pleading. It broke me more than some bruising ever could. The truth was so painful, but I couldn't lie. Not to him. Tears poured over my face, as I sat, desperate to gather the strength to speak.

The story spilled out between terrible sobs, and I was so sick with the ache inside that I couldn't care less what I looked like, how afraid I sounded. My partner pulled me into his arms and just _held_ me. I cried until my eyes grew swollen and sensitive to the light.

His claws brushed through my tangled pigtail before his arms wound tighter around me, to press close. "You're going to be okay, bugaboo."

I clung to his promise as tightly as I did him. _It's going to be okay. We're going to be okay._

He startled back, hands tracing my sides and pupils blown wide. "Mari, look."

We both watched in awed silence as my suit glimmered, scarlet growing brighter and brighter. I offered a watery smile, my eyes red and nose blotchy. It was more than that. I felt strength flutter through my bones, like a thousand little ladybug dancing.

"Looks like Master Fu's tea really does work," my kitty mused.

I beamed at him, my fingers hungry to touch him, to prove once more that he was really here. While I may have doubted I ever could again, I giggled, and it felt like the sun coming out. "It's _tea_ rrific."


	13. Act Two: VI

I couldn't help the pride that swelled in me. The room was a masterpiece, and my Mari was the master that put it all together. She'd had every right to be exhausted in the weeks leading up to this event. White rose petals, gold, and the sound of a violin swept the dining hall of _Le Grande Paris_ into a dreamlike world where everything glittered in candlelight.

It made me ache more with every step in seeing her in each new lovely detail that caught my eye. The center of the room grabbed my attention. That was where the food was spread, but whatever delicious menu they'd prepared was completely overshadowed by an ice sculpture. The outspread wings of a swan glinted, and its neck craned forward to create a dramatic silhouette.

And then, I heard her laugh. One which put the musicians to shame. I turned to the right, just a fraction to catch her as she flitted by. I'd just long enough to take in her dress before she passed from view, obscured by a sea of guests. It looked vastly different from the bundle I saw laying on the floor of her bedroom. The dress was feathered with tulle peaking from the bottom of the skirt, both in a powdery gray. Her back turned to me so I had a perfect view of the gorgeous detail of how the feathers swished to form the indication of wings.

 _Well she's certainly graceful enough to be a swan._

A smile tugged at my lips, imagining the way she'd roll her eyes if I'd told her that.

"Adrien!" In seconds, a hand had me by the arm, pulling my attention from the empty space Marinette left behind. "There you are."

I grinned down at Chloe, who wore a dress nearly identical to Mari's, except hers was in a soft white, almost like marble. The shade had obviously been picked to compliment her expensive tan. Silvery eye shadow set her blue eyes off like satin, and she wore the sweetest, most sincere smile I'd seen on her, perhaps since we were little. Maybe this place really was magic.

"You're a genius," I said. "You know that?"

She chuckled, and swatted at my arm playfully. "Of course. Well? What've I done _this_ time that's so brilliant?"

I hesitated, before nodding in Mari's direction. She stood only yards away, speaking to an elderly woman, who while wore fine attire, still paled in comparison to the radiance that shined from my lady. "This will be great exposure for her and her designs. You knew people would notice her, didn't you?"

Chloe's gaze softened when she spotted her. "She deserves it."

I tore my gaze away, long enough to give Chloe's gown another look, before they drifted right back to Mari. While there wasn't any room to doubt her artistic hand in it, I couldn't stop myself. "And she designed your dresses too, didn't she?"

"Of course."

 _You should really stop looking at her now._ To remove the temptation from sight, I turned, eye landing on the punch bowl. "You want something to drink?"

"No, thank you." Her gaze sparkled with something that bordered on mischief. "You're in a good mood tonight."

I shrugged my shoulders under my burgundy suit, a Ladybug line piece, and entirely Father's idea. He'd given me little room to protest the matter. I forced another big smile. On a night like this, I wouldn't let something as silly as a suit keep me from enjoying it all. "It's a party. And not just any party." Smooth as could be, I leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "Happy Birthday, Chloe."

Her hand flew to the spot, a natural blush blooming under her fingertips. "You. . .? Thank you, Adrien."

My confidence faltered when her eyes snapped right back to Marinette. I worried at my bottom lip. The last several months, Chloe had quickly become one of our closest friends, a cheerleader and support for both of us. While oblivious to behind the scenes details like how Mari and I finally found out the truth about our secret identities, she'd pushed us together when we were stuck in our own fears, trying to sort out the messy feelings. She'd played a bigger role in getting us together than maybe she'd ever know.

It was sad I couldn't thank her for any of that. It was sad she had to go on thinking we'd broken up. What must she think of me, only seeing that I'd hurt my Mari the way everyone supposed I had?

Now I knew what it looked like to see my lady's heart break. . . I knew what I'd think of me if I knew only what my friend did. It was too much, and not enough. My hands buried deep into my pockets. "Sorry," I murmured. "This is weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's pretty weird." Her finely groomed eyebrows drew together. "You know, you've changed, Adrien."

My eyes drifted to her grip on my arm, before giving her a sly smile warmed by the flickering candlelight. "Said the pot to the kettle."

"I mean, I'm glad." My charms seemed to bounce off, as if something was really weighing her down. I stilled, and could only hope I hadn't backed myself into a corner I couldn't get out of. "You've seemed so sad since. . . Since you and. You know. And on top of that, your mom is back in Paris. I was worried."

My hand closed over top of hers, and gave a gentle squeeze. "Thank you. You've been a good friend, Chloe. To both of us."

"I think I learned that from you," she replied, eyes twinkling.

"Chloe?" Sabrina approached, fiddling with her glasses. Our eyes met before her head turned abruptly to Chloe. This was perhaps the first time I'd seen her since school broke out for the summer. She'd cut her hair even shorter, a loose pixie cut, and this was the only time I remembered seeing her in a dress. The teal hugged her waist and made her eyes pop from behind her big frames. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. . ."

Chloe placed her hand that wasn't around my arm to her hip. "Is something wrong?"

"I." She gave me another skittish glance. "I don't think they're coming–"

"Sabrina." Chloe grit her teeth, and her friend's mouth snapped shut. "Thank you," she went on, though she sounded anything but grateful. "I'm fully aware."

I looked out over the maroon and gold decked room, trying to piece together who she could have meant. Her dad was present, and I couldn't think of anyone obviously missing. Aside from. . . a large percentage of the guests were adults. In fact, Sabrina was the only other classmate I'd seen besides. . .

"Where is everyone?" I glanced between Chloe and Sabrina, both looking as though they'd let out some big secret. "What about Kim, and Rose, and. . . well everyone?"

Perhaps a year ago, they'd have come up with excuses not to come. But now? After everything? It just didn't make sense.

"They. . . didn't like a decision I made about the party, and decided not to show." Chloe shrugged, like it was no big deal. But it kind of was.

"You mean, they didn't come because you decided to invite me." Slowly, a scowl took over my face. Though I wasn't upset on my own behalf. "But that's not fair to Mari, at _all."_

She gave me an odd look, and I wondered if perhaps I'd said too much. "No. It's not."

". . . Or you," I added lamely.

"Well." Chloe looked a little lost, as if she'd made a mistake, as if this was all her fault. But it wasn't. It was _mine._ "Nino still came."

I followed her gaze, and caught sight of him talking to Marinette, his red cap and noisy tee replaced by a fresh haircut and a rich emerald button up against light washed jeans. His hands were tucked neatly, shyly into his pockets, and he muttered something that made her burst with a sweet laugh that made her cheeks turn rosy as her arms tightened around her sides, as if trying to find air. It felt wrong, unbalanced, even cruel that I wasn't with them. That I couldn't be the way that I wanted.

All at once, the crowd felt like a sea keeping us apart. Chloe and Sabrina watched in concerned silence as I took a step forward, to fight my way through it, never taking my eyes off her. She was like the lighthouse keeping me from ending a wreck on dangerous rocks, what kept me from sinking.

As we drew nearer, I knew I wanted nothing more than to take her in my arms and kiss her, for the whole room, even the whole of Paris to see. I wished so hard my chest ached that she could be beside me, because Master Fu was right, and I was done giving up what made us strongest. I was done giving up her. Our eyes found each other, wide blue and wild green.

My next step faltered, like a stone that skitters when you kick it, or maybe it was because of the painful jump my heart gave. Maybe my brain wasn't getting enough oxygen. I'd been to enough events, enough parties to know it's more than fog, it's more than the heat of a roomful of bodies. It was Mari's name on my tongue, and being unable to say it, it was her laugh sending my breath to a stutter, and unable to laugh along. Like there was a glass cage that separated us, that would take more than a ring and superpowers to break past.

Now was not the time to make a dramatic, very public display of affection. One that would very likely confuse our friends to no end, not to mention risk putting Mari's identity as Ladybug under fire. So as we found ourselves drawn into the same space, like a boat slipping to shore, I fumbled with my hands, my words, and didn't know where to look.

Nino's eyes were blown wide behind his glasses, and he looked panic, turning his head to look from one lost friend to the next. For once it seemed he didn't know what to say, and I guess it must have been contagious because the swell of the orchestra and murmur of party guests devoured us all up without a word to cling to. But it wasn't _my_ fault. Not when my plan had been to swoop in and kiss the girl. To tell her she looked stunning, and that I couldn't be more proud of her. All bitter things to swallow back.

 _What would Plagg do?_

He wouldn't freeze like this. Probably pop out something flirtatious, like "looking hotter than bubbling fondue, my lady." But Plagg would also be much too exhausted to worry about keeping secret identities a secret. I guess that was the pro to being a god that didn't care about much besides having a full belly of Camembert.

Mari saved me. She's always doing that.

"Hello, Adrien." So formal. So _charming._ "I. . . I'm glad that you came."

"Sure." I bit my tongue. "I mean, I'm glad that. . . too." Smooth, right? "Um."

Nino couldn't have looked more embarrassed. Poor guy.

I took another look at her and the wild, mischievous streak in me was dying to ruin the elegant bun her dark hair was swept into, to see it loose against her lovely, exposed shoulders. "Can we talk?"

"Talk?"

"Alone."

Her eyes blinked wider. "Oh. . . Okay."

Nino made a not so subtle backstep. "I'll go see if, uh, there's anything on the food table I recognize. So. . ."

But we were already slipping away, and I followed closely to her as she navigated past shoulders and glitter and bright smiles. I followed until we were in the cool, more thoroughly lit hall that led to the lobby. In a place full of rooms, I wasn't sure where to go next. Closed doors lined the corridor, though they were all likely locked. Staff and guests milled the area and the buzz of traffic leaked past the front doors. This wasn't alone, but at least now there weren't eyes watching, questioning. So I took her hand before I burst, and somehow some sense drew me to a slip of storage closet near the back of the hall.

"Adrien, what are–" She caught her breath as I tugged her into the shadows, among the company of mops, and paper towels, and shelves lined with bottles of cleaning supplies. "We shouldn't–"

"You look stunning, and I hate not being able to hold your hand," I blurted, and my grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly, as if the touch could communicate the height of this agony. "And I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you."

"I told you," she whispered. "People shouldn't see us together. I think you may have short circuited Nino out there."

"I know. But what are we even protecting if we don't stay together, Mari?" My breath shuddered in the small space between us. "I want to be with you."

I hoped she could tell that meant " _I need to be with you."_

She smoothed the front of my suit, and her attention fell to fussing with my tie. Her delicate hands sent sparks through me. "I want to be with you, too." And her lips were soft at my jaw, and her fingers curled at my collar. She spared kiss, a bit sloppy in the dark, but she found me, and I breathed her in, wishing the moment to stretch on. As she parted, her voice trembled with an exhale. "I'm going to make you a promise, okay?"

"Is this a threat?"

She giggled, as if she'd forgotten to be quiet, that we were still hiding in a closet. It felt like a sweet taste of what we used to have. "No, silly. I'm serious."

The texture of her dress was so soft as my hands settled at her waist so I could pull her closer. I was never more grateful for artificial feathers. In the dim light, wrapped in her scent, in her touch, I remembered a night we spent on a boat, wearing a dusty hat and boa we found in a trunk of costumes. I remembered how safe she felt as we lay next to each other, showing pieces of ourselves we'd kept tucked from sight, until we finally fell asleep. It'd been the most fun I ever had at one of my Father's shows. All because of her.

"Do we have to be serious?" I whispered. We'd had a lot of that lately. Too much, maybe. "Let's do something fun. Remember when we ditched the after party when I took you to Father's show? We can do that again."

". . . Chloe is scheduled to blow the candles out on her cake soon."

" _Mari."_

"It's hazelnut with chocolate buttercream. Papa worked really hard on it."

"I'm sure the cake is amazing. Everything he makes is like ridiculously great. But I'd give up a hundred cakes to spend time with you."

"True love."

We both chuckled.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat, and pressed my forehead to hers, careful not to muss her hair too much. "It's okay." My hand strayed to the doorknob, and as it turned, a sliver of bright yellow light came in through the crack. "I understand."

Marinette took hold of it too, her hand overlapping my own. She stopped me. "Is she still here?"

"Not sure." I swallowed again. "Probably. I wouldn't know."

It didn't matter, anymore. The woman who'd loved me as a child wasn't the same one here today. Whoever she'd been, she was gone now. And Mari was here. _She_ was the one who had been there for me. The one who stayed. I was done chasing a memory.

"You've not seen her since the fight?" she asked.

I pulled on the door with more force, but overpowering Ladybug would never be that easy. "No."

"Adrien, I know you don't want to talk about it," she said.

I cut her off before she could go on, the small space suddenly a trap instead of a haven. "Thanks. Don't want to miss the cake, right?"

"I'd miss a cake for you anytime too, you know," she said, like that wasn't really what she wanted to say. I stopped fighting her for the door. "I let myself get so absorbed in everything that I neglected you and wasn't there for you when you needed me. I'm sorry, Adrien."

Funny how the softest words are the ones that break you most. I couldn't reply, and I knew if she said any more there would be tears, and I'd much rather eat cake than cry.

"When you're ready to talk," she whispered, "I'll drop everything for you. Preferably when Paris isn't under attack, but if that's what you need, I will listen." Despite my numbness, I felt the gentle kiss she placed against my cheek where a tear had left a trail. "There. That's my promise."

I nodded, and swiped at my eye with the heel of my hand, as if it could wipe all trace of emotion away. I wanted to start with a clean slate. "Once more, before we go back out?"

Her head ducked, bashful. "I guess it wouldn't hurt."

While a gentle kiss seemed to fit the moment, with her shyness and the fact that any and all tousling of our appearance would _not_ go unnoticed, my heart didn't seem to be listening very well to my head. Every shred of sadness, anger, worry, and doubt swam in me as I surged forward. It felt more like a very desperate kiss, like it'd become a spark I couldn't control. She jolted, as if caught aflame the same way. My fingers dug at her ribs to pull her close, and her hands clutched to the front of my suit, as if she'd float away if she didn't hold onto me.

In moving deeper into the closet, one of us knocked into a broom. It teetered over, and smacked Mari in the noggin on its way down. We both broke apart, startled and wincing at the loud _crash_ it caused against the stack of cardboard boxes in the corner.

"Oops. . ." I cringed.

Mari busted out giggling, already short of breath. She wheezed, and gripped tighter to my collar. "Ohmygosh. That was hilarious."

I let the back of my hand trail the side of her face. "You okay, bugaboo?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm fine, really." She bit at her lip to contain her laughter. "I wish I could have seen your face, you jumped like three feet in the air."

"Did not."

"You're such an actual cat, sometimes I can't take it."

I purred seductively, which caused her to burst out in laughter so loud, she clapped both hands over her mouth. My chest rumbled in response, the sound infectious. And for a moment, in the cover of a dark, small closet the entire world felt a little bit brighter.

* * *

Nino had parked himself by the food table, like he said he'd be. Balanced in one hand, held a dainty plate towered with samples from just about every dish set out. He swallowed hard when he saw me winding my way toward him.

"Hey, man."

I examined his plunder, and my eyes caught on something sweet and chocolatey, and obviously from the Boulangerie Patisserie. The little eclairs were a favorite of mine, and Tom had promised to teach me how to bake them. . . Guess that dream was toast now.

"Hey, Nino."

"Are you. . . OK?"

I stiffened, because I knew when I cry my eyes can get puffy, and I really _really_ didn't want to have to explain why. My hand shot up to rub at the back of my neck. "Uh, yeah. I'm fine."

Nino stuffed an entire crab cake in his mouth, not breaking eye contact as he chewed. My anxiety climbed, waiting for him to finish, or speak. He then pointed to the front of my suit, and gave me a look of confusion. "Umm?"

I inclined my head, and spotted it right away. It was so light, and soft, and screamed to be noticed against the dark burgundy of my jacket. I quickly swatted the feather away, cheeks dashing to match the color of my attire. Apparently he could tell as well as I, that it was from Mari's dress.

"So uh." He stared at the plate, unable to meet my gaze. "How "broken up" are you two, exactly?"

"I don't know how that got there. . ."

My stomach rolled having to lie to him, especially when he looked at me like I'd just told him his puppy tripped down some stairs. But the warning alarms still blared in my head. That was exactly the type of question I could never answer. Not anymore. Maybe never.

Yet when I looked at Marinette, and we caught each others eyes for the briefest of moments, and her impulse was to send me a sweet smile, I knew what we had to do. I'd do anything to keep her safe, anything to make sure that smile stayed right where it was. The thing that fluttered in my chest was less like worry and more like strength. Whatever would come, we'd face it together, and I'd climb any mountain just to stay at her side.

A nudge brought me back out of the magic of the moment. Nino's focus was surprisingly not on his food, but the topic at hand. "So if someone were to ask 'Nette out, how would you feel? Would it be cool?"

It was a question as loaded as the custard filled canelé nestled on his plate. The scary part was, he sounded dead serious. So I responded the way I do best. With a joke.

"Why, you interested?"

"It's just a hypothetical, dude."

I swallowed, throat suddenly dry and like gravel. "I mean, it would be her choice, obviously."

"Yeah. . . not what I meant."

"Nino," I warned.

"I've no intentions of asking, just so we're clear, man. I just got out of a breakup too. So I know how she feels, I guess. But I just wondered if you braced yourself. I mean, school will start up again and like half our class has had a crush on her."

"I get it, Nino."

I'm saved from further pain by the ever miraculous power of birthday cake. The crowd swelled toward the center of the room, where Jean with the well groomed mustache had wheeled in the towering layers. A collective "oooh" and applause from the guests swept the room, and I allowed myself a moment to be proud of Tom, because it was certainly a pastry to be wowed by. Tiers of white, speckled with gold and pearls were neatly stacked one on top of the other, and tall crimson candles that sort of sparkled circled the top layer, simply waiting to be wished on.

" _Bon anniversaire, nos v_ œ _ux les plus sinc_ è _res. . ."_

Voices lifted together, glasses rose into the air, and beside me Nino pumped his fist and let out a whoop. Chloe's butler set out a step ladder, since the towering cake dwarfed her petite stature. The candles were a bright spot in the dimmed room, and the violins perked up to join in the song.

I broke into another grin, and my voice drowned among perhaps a hundred others, before I noticed the birthday girl motion toward me to come over. My training for the catwalk didn't keep my hands from burying into my pant pockets, and my eyes from catching on my shoes against the lush red carpet as I made my way toward the centre of the room. "What is it?" I asked, above the roar. It was then I realized Mari had joined Chloe her opposite side. "Oh."

She took first my hand, then Maris and gave them a squeeze. If sincerity were light, she'd be the sun. "I just wanted my two closest friends to be with me for this."

Mari's eyes flicked to me briefly, before we both turned our focus to our friend. Because this was _her_ moment. And as the song drew closer to its end, I helped Chloe step up onto the stool in her gold brushed heels. Her eyes screwed shut and her chest lifted with a deep, deep breath. Like every fibre of her was actually wishing. But before she could release it, before the bright sparks could flicker out or the cheers break loose, the lighting of the room flickered from dim to black. The song of well wishing turned to gasps and panic.

It wasn't simply the electricity. There was something black that crept up the walls of the dining hall. My heart dropped.

 _Shadows._

Not just one. This was nothing short of an army. Which could only mean that we were under attack.

My next thought wasn't any more optimistic. Because there could only be one reason they'd come here. There was only one other person I knew that had been stalked by the shadows.

"I have to find my mom."

Chloe clutched to the sleeve of my suit before I'd taken two steps. "Adri, _no._ Don't go."

Marinette stepped forward, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll go with him."

"And how on earth do you think _that_ will help him?" Chloe snapped, her grip on me not any lesser.

"Two are better than one."

"Chloe, _please,"_ I asked.

There was a moment when we looked into each other, and I knew she saw every bit of fear gnawing at my insides. Because I thought I'd put the woman behind me. I thought I left all of it in the past where it belonged. But now I knew I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to her without taking the chance to tell her what she really meant to me. Not when I could be brave. I'd save the day, I'd beat these shadows, but the real battle would be to tell her. . . To tell my Mom I had loved her. That maybe I still did.

It was as if she were psychic. I mean, Chloe had known me longer and better than just about anyone. The closest thing I'd ever had to a sister. Maybe she really could read my mind. And whatever she picked up on, it was enough for her to let me go.

"If you ruin my birthday party by getting eaten by boogie men, I'll never forgive you."

I smiled down at her, despite her serious tone. "I know."

The creatures were like a nightmare, or things brought to life from an old horror film. They way they slunk and slithered from the corners. People pushed toward the doors, as the blackness spread closer and closer to the middle of the room.

Maybe they just wanted a piece of the cake?

"Please!" Mayor Burgeious raised his voice above the din. "Remain calm, everyone. I'm quite sure Ladybug and Chat Noir will arrive any minute to–"

Mari and I spared one another a meaningful look. That was our queue to bust out the masks.

Everyone was freaking out, so we didn't exactly make a scene by running out the room. Only this time, instead of sneaking away to snog in a closet, we were going to fight monsters. You know. . . just a regular day in the life of a super couple.

It felt so right, being together, even if it were under such treacherous circumstances. I spared Mari a glance, who had kicked off her party shoes in favor of keeping up with me in her bare feet. The light fixtures along the chic papered walls pulsed. I mean, I wasn't sure how they managed to play with electricity the way they did, but I was thankful that once I put on the suit, I'd have Chat Noir's vision, enough to see in pretty much any shortage of lighting.

A dark form rose from the carpet to greet us, and I studied it closely, wondering what other tricks these things had up their sleeves. Y'know. . . if shadows _had_ sleeves.

Mari and I both slowed, to brace ourselves for the coming attack, as the phantom charged toward us. How were we supposed to fight something so vapor like? Could we even touch them? Could they touch us? My heart rate climbed the closer it got, and the whisper and barely audible shriek that emanated from the creature sent a shiver down my spine.

"Got my back?" I asked.

Mari didn't seem to be enjoying all this quite as much as I was, but she managed a wink. "You know it, kit kat."

" _Kit kat?"_

"I was trying to be subtle. We're not. . ." Her voice dropped to a whisper. _"In costume."_

"Oh. Right." I stared down at my empty hands. No batons, no claws.

 _Great._

It came closer, and closer, sweeping down the hall at a frightening pace. Mari planted her bare feet against the scarlet underfoot. I glanced at the supply closet, still several yards away, and wondered if it was worth the risk to run and grab a broom or something, to defend ourselves with. Another shriek escaped as it drew within that dangerous striking distance. . . and flew right past us. As if we were nothing more than ghosts ourselves.

Mari visibly shivered, hugging her arms to herself where the thing had gone right through her. "That was. . . mega weird."

"Yeah. Spooky."

We pressed into the now familiar space of our closet, and Mari reached above my head for the thin chain to a single, uncovered bulb. It turned on with a small tug and a _click_ that sent the room into a maze of thankfully inanimate shadows and dull rose light. I lifted my suit jacket open by the lapel to let Plagg loose. Tiki had a bit more bizarre of a hiding place, as her dress wasn't exactly designed to conceal anything, and flitted from behind Mari's neatly swept up hair.

"Oooh," Plagg crooned. "Finally a _cool_ akuma. Those other cheeseheads really don't know how to dress, but these guys? Wow, this will be a great show."

Tiki gave her fellow kwami a wry look. "Oh, Plagg. Try not to be too excited about an akuma seizing an entire hotel and ruining the party Marinette worked so hard to put together, OK?"

Mari ruffled my hair, because soon enough it wouldn't matter how many layers of hairspray Harper had used. "Now I know where you get it."

"Get what?" Plagg and I asked in unison.

Our blue eyed partners shared a look of mutual understanding, and offered nothing more than a shrug and a smile before Mari ushered on her transformation.

" _Spots on!"_

" _Claws out, Plagg."_

The space wrapped in a dance of colors, the familiar magenta light and green flash, as we switched to personas slightly more useful for our current situation. And if something about it all felt different, like the strengthened pull of energy that circulated between us, I quickly shook it off, to push the strange sensation to the fringes of my conscience.

It was time to kick some akuma butt.

* * *

The shadows gathered in a swarm.

I had the suspicion all we needed to do was follow them. I could take a guess where they were headed, or to whom they were going, and a dead weight grew in my lungs, until I felt heavy and everything felt dark despite the glint of my green cat sight.

The power died out, and hadn't come back, so I held tight to my Lady's hand to guide her down the unlit corridor. So maybe the lack of electricity wasn't _entirely_ bad. I gave her fingers a squeeze, then pivoted at the corner to follow our target. I pressed closer to their tail, as they'd yet to pay her or I a spare glance.

Who was following who now?

They looked even more ghostly through cat vision, and I knew I heard them well more than my partner. The shrill wound through my head, like an unwanted song stuck on repeat. As we traveled down the main corridor of the second floor, another cry broke through. The plea of a child.

I skidded to a stop, and Ladybug plowed into me with a soft "oof".

"Did you hear that?" I asked.

"From that way?" She pointed into the darkness. . . the direction _opposite_ the way the swarm had fled.

I tugged her forward, not wasting another second, because I knew there was no way I'd ignore a cry for help. "Come on."

As we drew closer voices became audible, and seemed to bounce from behind the walls. She let go of my hand and pressed against the doors of the lift, her ear at the seam. "Hello? This is Ladybug. Can you hear me?"

"Yes!" several voices chimed.

"Oh please help us," someone called. "We're trapped!"

The child still cried.

"Okay. . . Okay." Ladybug took in a deep breath. "I'm going to get you out? Alright?"

Her gloved hands slid again to the seam, fingers delicate to pry between the doors, then strained from the tension it took to open it a crack. I came to her side and helped her pull, the heavy doors giving out with a scraping and loud groan. We managed to get them open enough that I could peer into the pitch black shaft. The cables stretched overhead, and the car sat caught between floors. By design, there was an escape hatch at the roof of the car, but it would take time to assist each person safely out of the shaft and. . . every second slipped by with the sound of rapid heartbeats rushing in my ears.

I cast a frantic look down the hall, any lingering shadow now gone.

"Go." Ladybug brought out her yoyo, and cracked it open to let out some of the beautiful, white sunless light, which sent wild and lifeless shadows along the walls. "I'll take care of this."

"No, I won't–"

Her hand came to rest at my jaw then the nape of my neck, as she gently tugged my closer. "She needs you. I've got this covered."

"– _I can't leave you again."_

At that, her face betrayed the still fragile cracks in a shattered heart. But she had mended. Was mending still. Because she was _Ladybug._ "I know you never will." Her forehead pressed to mine, and she nuzzled our noses together despite our masks. "I'll be right behind you, I swear."

"I love you," I whispered into the dark.

I felt her smile. "There's a good kitty."

What I could only hope was courage propelled me down the hall. I forced an even flow of oxygen, in and out, in and out. As I reached room 217, where my Mom had checked in, the scene that met me really took the cake on the whole nightmare thing. The swarm was writhing, fighting each other to get close enough to claw at the door. The knob rattled, though it stayed locked. When they realized it wouldn't open, one by one they slid through the crack beneath the door.

I forced the neighboring door open. _Bang._ Luckily the room was unoccupied, as I darted past the pristine washroom and freshly made bed, making my way straight for the balcony. The sliding door opened noiselessly. A step out, and the brightness of miles and miles of city lights hit me like someone shining a flashlight directly in your eyes. The sparkle of the Eiffel was as dazzling as ever. By contrast, power to the hotel was still dead. I could see floors below and floors above black.

The jump between verandas was short. _Thump._ I came up to the glass, and peered into room 217. Hair at the nape of my neck prickled, and my ears flattened, at the imposing figure that towered over the woman.

"CATACLYSM."

I pounced with such force, I plowed right through the glass into the room. While my cat sight still illuminated the room, I felt like I was swinging blindly for the shadow. The largest, sturdiest shadow I'd yet to see. The akuma? I swiped again, claws out, and right hand burning with raw destructive power.

"Chat Noir, _no!"_

I latched onto him with my left, sinking down and shoved him against the wall. _Thud._ My right was already in motion, ready to land on the monster, to. . . A flash of memory, of holding a sobbing Ladybug in my arms hit me like lightning. An ironlike grip caught me by the arm, just in time to stop me. To save the shadow. To save me.

An angel. _Mom._

The electricity flickered on and off, briefly illuminating the towering figure I'd pinned against the wall. A mask, a silk cape, royal blue. I jumped back, holding my deadly paw well away from both of the others, eyes blown wide with shock at what I'd almost done.

". . . He wants to help," the woman said.

He was silent.

The shadows screamed.

With a shower of silver, spine like blades, the stranger took out a row, sending the phantoms into the air as nothing more than fading wisps. The swarm grew, closing in.

"Chat Noir, where is Ladybug?" she asked, sounding desperate.

I gave my hand one glance, the dark particles buzzing, humming. There were so many of them, even with the two of us, I wasn't sure we could take them. Force didn't seem to be the answer. M'lady always used her creativity to solve the problem, and I relied on her instinct. Though this time, I was out my partner.

I surged downward, to flatten my hand against crimson carpet. The floor gave way in response, falling away like ashes, and we dropped. Shadows backed away from the edge, too startled to take the tumble themselves.

Soon enough the next floor met us. I landed with a roll, until my elbow crashed into the side of a desk. With an elegance that far surpassed my own, the masked man found his balance, and caught my mom with a sweeping motion into his arms. Her delicate hands gripped him tightly, knuckles bone. The only sign of her fall was blonde hair slightly askew, and one of her emerald heels came loose and landed with a soft _thud._

With another flash from the fixtures ahead, I got a look at the mysterious vigilante. The sheen of his suit had a substance of something magical. . . maybe even miraculous. I tilted my head, better to gape up at the towering figure. Could it really be another holder? The feathers, the bold colors, and what I could now see were coattails and not simply a cape, screamed of a certain regal bird.

He stared back, cold, calculating. His voice came out like a purr, with every ounce of pride of someone that esteems themselves the highest brow in a room, regardless of who else is present. I'd spent enough time with Chloe growing up to know. "I suggest we keep moving. Parlor tricks won't keep them disoriented for long."

 _Parlor tricks?_

Good thing Plagg was safely contained in his ring, or he'd have quite the sassy comeback. Any force of nature seemed a bit more qualifying than an illusion. Like comparing lightning to a card trick. As it was, I had to bite back a sharp remark myself. I got to my feet, and brushed at any dust that had grabbed a hold of my suit in the tumble. "Sorry, who are you, exactly?"

His eyes were a penetrating gray framed by the radiant blue of his mask. "You may call me Paon Bleu, if you like."

"And you're–"

"A super hero? Hardly."

"A miraculous holder."

If he'd been any kind of hero, he wouldn't have stayed hidden while Hawkmoth turned Paris upside down more times than I could count, more times than my Father had redecorated his office. My eyes gave me the answer, spotting the fanned brooch pinned at his chest.

He set my mom down, and bent to retrieve her escaped shoe, offering it to her without so much as a glance her way. "It appears so. Just as you are."

"Chat Noir," I supplied.

"Yes. I know what they call you."

My ring chirped. "You'll know more than that if I stick around. My miraculous needs to recharge."

"Go on," my mom told me, clutching the shoe over her heart. "We'll be alright until you get back."

The flickering of my ring caught my eye, mesmerized. I. . . I could stay. Sure, it was a wild thought. Didn't seem sensible. Why would I let her see? Why would I trust someone I'd just met, a stranger? The fact he had a miraculous didn't count for much, considering Hawkmoth carried one all the same. And yet I was about to trust him to watch over my mother with the hotel overrun by monsters?

"You're going to run in those shoes?" Paon Bleu asked.

My mom blew a strand of loose hair out her face. "Oh, I thought you were going to _carry_ me the whole way."

Something nagged at me, watching them. How did this supposed knight in shining armor know there were dragons to slay? Had he been a guest at the party or happened to be staying at the hotel? Was he the mysterious shadow that had been following her? Did they know each other? Why would she trust him, after she barely allowed me confidence?

I backed from the desk, toward the door of the office room. "Well I uh, should go. _Cat_ ch up with you guys in the kitchen? Sorry. . . I just have food on the brain."

Though they didn't seem to be listening.

"I'm _not_ carrying you," Paon Bleu said.

Drifting through the door, I ran down the hall, until my boots turned to dress shoes and my suit rolled away. Green tinted trim and doorframes switched to pitch black, and I eased up my speed. Plagg floated easily in front, moving backwards to face me with that smug look of his, eyes luminescent.

"Yeah kid, just go ahead and tell _everyone_ that you're freaking chat noir, and I'm sure all your problems will go away. Or ya know. . . make everything infinitely more _cat_ astrophic."

"I didn't tell her, did I?" I snapped back.

"Sure. We both know what you were thinking, though."

With that, he swiveled around. As if he deserved the final word. At least I could take comfort knowing he didn't need to see my glare in order to feel it boring into the back of his little sparkling head. I guess we were strange that way. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be without his shining presence and personality. But no. I wouldn't give him up for anything.

"I only tell the people I trust." My step faltered. "And she's not exactly at the top of my list."

People I trusted, like I did Marinette, or Nino, and even Plagg. Not that I kept a physical record of that sort of thing. But I didn't need to give it much thought. It's really the sort of thing you feel in your gut. My mom had been knocked to the bottom of that list a long time ago.

". . . I know, kid," Plagg replied, almost soft. Almost.

"Will you quit calling me that?"

"Maybe when you're old enough," he wheezed.

The papered wall served as a guide as I traced it with a hand through the dark. Plagg served as a quiet green beacon, roaming a few steps ahead. We passed by that same broom closet, and I kept on, with a sense of where the doors to the dining hall should be. While I didn't get a good look at the food trays, I could hope there would be cheese somewhere. As my kwami often says: it's not a party without cheese.

I stepped into the open room, illuminated by floor to ceiling windows, a view of the cityscape and starry lights framed by scarlet drapes. Any remnants of the crowd had vanished, or so it first appeared. A song piped up from somewhere near the centre. An American bop that I'd heard many times, played by DJ and all around hip guy Nino.

I held a finger to my lips to signal Plagg to keep quiet. The sound led us near the untouched birthday cake, to the table that sported the now dripping ice swan. I lifted the tablecloth, revealing a flurry of disco lights coming from a phone set on the floor, the same that played Nino's song. Three figures huddled underneath, and they startled at the sight of me. Nino nearly dropped his plate of cake, which apparently had not gone _entirely_ to waste. The others were Chloe, and a very wide eyed Sabrina.

"Adrien!" Chloe gasped, and emerged from their hiding spot, and caught me around the neck in a hug. "You're OK?"

"Yeah." I glanced around, and spotted Plagg peeking out from behind the ice sculpture. "I'm fine. Have you been here the whole time?"

Chloe released me, and waved in Nino's approximate direction. "When everyone freaked, it was his idea to stay here. The monsters scattered, and everyone's gone to who knows where. I was worried sick about you and–" Her eyes narrowed. "Where is Marinette?"

My tick showed up before I could stop it, scratching the back of my head in a telltale way. "Well uh. She's uh."

The neighboring table distracted me, and I glanced over dishes of quiche, and pastries, and chocolate dipped everything, hoping to spot something to appease Plagg's black hole of a stomach.

Chloe pulled my attention back to her, and may as well have been trying to puncture my suit the way she jabbed a finger against my chest. "You. Lost. Her? How could you!?"

"No, no. She's OK!" I backed a step away, casually drifting closer to the food. "She's. . . with Ladybug."

"She's _what?"_

Brilliant.

Maybe.

Though I was the only one to see it, Plagg facepalmed.

Nino piped up, still hunkered safely beneath the table. "Isn't that kinda, I dunno, awkward? You just leave Ladybug, your girlfriend, to watch out for your ex girlfriend, Marinette? And you thought it was a good idea to leave the two of them alone?"

"She's _safe."_

And I was sinking, fast.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Well did you at least manage to find your mom?"

I finally saw what I was looking for. A cheese tray. Brie, Stilton, cheddar, made complete with slices of a very fragrant, very pale fromage. Plagg's soul mate, the one and only Camembert.

 _I love that girl._

Maybe it was a coincidence that Chloe's caterer included it in the menu selection, but what I found more likely, is that Marinette added it. Plagg was lucky to have her looking out for him. For us.

"Um, well I didn't find her, exactly." I poked at a plate of hors d'oeuvres, and casually as I could, swiped a handful of cheese, concealing it behind my back. "But she's safe too. I think."

"Adrien, there you are! I was thinking about what you said and–"

All eyes flew to none other than Ladybug, who froze in the doorway the moment she realized I wasn't the only one in the room. We had an audience. The crazy thing was, I never auditioned for this part. More than that, I was tired of acting.

My kwami, whose mind remained solely on the matter of food, seized the chance to zip across the room while everyone was distracted. I jumped a bit at the sensation of his slimy tongue, as he gobbled the cheese right out of my grasp. Perhaps his ability to inhale Camembert in seconds was a blessing in disguise. The sooner he ate, the sooner the cat could come back, and the sooner Adrien could get out of this very awkward situation.

With hands on hips, Chloe stepped forward. "Where is she?"

Ladybug looked behind herself, as if that might supply the answer. "Who?"

"Marinette. Adrien told me you were with her."

"Ah." Her blue eyes roved to me, confused. Exasperated. One of the two. "Well, she was. Now she's with Chat Noir."

I could hear Plagg _chewing_. And loudly. I batted blindly at him, in hopes that he'd take a hint and keep he didn't, I grabbed him by the tail and stuffed him into my pocket. The only thing that could make this worse, was to out myself as Chat Noir. Because Marinette was very obviously not with me. Well. You know what I mean.

"Why haven't you evacuated the hotel?" Ladybug asked.

Sabrina and Nino stepped out into the open, and he shrugged, half eaten cake still in hand. "You think a little monster attack is gonna keep us from enjoying a perfectly good birthday cake?" He shot finger guns at her, still somehow balancing the plate in the one. "Besides. We all knew LB would swoop in and save the day."

"You. . ." Her chin dropped, before she look right back at Nino. "You sound so sure. Considering my powers haven't exactly been dependable lately."

"Well," I said. "I guess it's a good thing it isn't the spots that make Ladybug a hero."

Chloe scoffed. "That's not what makes her a hero _ine."_

"Yeah. That."

Her eyes narrowed behind the mask. Did she believe me? I needed her to believe me.

Hesitation kept her from coming closer, but I saw the hint of a smile on her lips. "Thank you, Adrien. Chloe. All of you. I uh, really do think you should leave the hotel, though. Head outside where it's safe. The police have already arrived."

As Nino passed by, he offered out a hand for a fistbump, which she accepted in turn. "Don't sweat, LB. You've got this."

The others then left, but I lingered beside her with every intention to stay. "Sorry, I had to recharge. But I did find my mom."

Ladybug looked down at her hand, like she'd sprouted extra fingers. "It's. . . that's fine."

I took the hand in mine, and gave it a squeeze. "You alright?"

"You saw that too, right?"

"I did." And couldn't help but chuckle. "You _know_ I meant what I said. Right?"

Quiet for a moment, she worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. "I guess I've just been building this up in my head, that they'd hate me or blame me for it all, since. . . y'know they've stayed right with you through this. And my track record recently is. . ."

I tipped her chin up, because I wanted her to see that I was smiling at her, that I was so _so_ proud of her. "Nothing has changed. You're still Ladybug, to me, to them. Wow. We have amazing friends, don't we?"

"I wish. . . I wish Alya would have come."

Plagg popped out, cheeks still stuffed like a greedy chipmunk. He then proceeded to chew like Manon with four candy bars in her mouth. Which, I would know exactly what that's like, despite what we'd told Mari that one time she let me help babysit. Who knew blaming Plagg for missing food was _that_ easy?

"At least you've got me!" The kwami swallowed with an audible gulp. "I don't know what I'd do without you, princess. That cheese was divine! You sure know how to put on a party."

A giggle escaped her soft lips, as she reached out to give him a scratch under the chin. "I _am_ so very lucky to have you, sugar." Her smiled refocused to me, with eyes that glittered from the light emanating through the windows. The lights of our city. "We both are."

* * *

Spices hung heavy in the air. Several pans of half cooked dishes sat on the stovetop, now cool. A bag of flour had been spilt, now dusting the workspace and the floor. It revealed a handful of footsteps, pointed directly for the exit. I blinked in the glow of emerald. Without windows the space was dark.

A hand clung to mine, with a blind trust that I would lead.

I sniffed again, my tail and ears suddenly alert. Lavender musk lingered, barely distinguishable among the many other stronger scents, such as peppers and cinnamon. Perfume? I zeroed in on it, as I could have sworn I'd smelled it before. I remembered, I had smelled it on my mom.

A quiet brush against the tile was my next clue. A near silent inhale from behind my shoulder. There was not time to react, as I turned and saw her, broom in hand. It was already in the air, swinging right for me.

The next moment, all I saw was white. A blinding pain shot across my face.

A hand clapped on my arm with intent. My eyes shot open. _My ring._

"My ring!"

"CHAT!"

I didn't see the scuffle that followed, Ladybug flailing near sightless for the attacker. A hand, though I don't know from who, shot against my chest and I stumbled back. I tripped over the broom, abandoned on the floor, and landed with a soft _"oof"_ on my tail.

The spinning in my head felt like a dark hole come to swallow me up, and I gritted my teeth, willing it to go away. When it settled enough that I could open my eyes, I looked up to see that Ladybug had the woman pinned against one of the counters' work spaces, face in flour, hands held taught behind her back.

"Chat, are you alright?" Without letting go of her grip, she cast me a frantic look. "Are you hurt?"

"Agh." My hand managed to find its way to my head, where I gently inspected for any bumps. "I don't think I'm blacking out this time, so that's a plus."

Clinging to the memory brought my mind clearer. That was the time we intercepted a burglar, an exchange that ended in a nasty concussion. That was the day I lifted my mask. For the first time I'd shown someone who I truly was. Best impulsive decision ever. Right?

Ladybug sagged with a sigh of relief. She knew me well enough to take my humor as an assurance I'd be okay. That feeling was short lived, as she whirled back to her prisoner, face pinched in anger. "I can't see you so I've _no_ idea who you are, but do you realize you've just assaulted _Chat Noir?_ Who do you think you are?" she bit out. "What were you going to do with his ring?"

"I thought. . . I thought if Hawkmoth just got what they want then they'd let him go."

"Let who go?" Ladybug asked.

My breath caught, as I pieced together a little more of this puzzle. "The akuma. The shadows. . . they know you. They weren't just following you, were they?"

My mom went slack against the countertop, and stopped resisting Ladybug's grip. "He was my fiancé."

"Your. . ." The word died in my mouth, and left behind a bitter taste.

She didn't think _we_ could save him. Ladybug and Chat Noir, heroes of Paris. How many akuma had we stopped? How many people had we saved? And yet she went to Father for help?

" _You're the only one that can save him, Gabriel."_

Her plea echoed in my mind, but it didn't add up. I blinked, aware the glow from my catsight was the only light offered in the room. How _on earth_ would my Father be able to help her? And help when she didn't believe this akuma could be stopped?

I chill ran down my spine. Crawling from the tips of my ears down my back, as if those very shadows were watching from the corner.

The only way for an akuma to be stopped, besides purifying it, would be for Hawkmoth to release it of his own will.

And he would never do that, right?

" _As far as you're concerned, I'm simply a business man. I'm sorry, but I can't help you."_

"I'm sorry." Mom lifted her head off the counter, enough to look over at me. "I lied to you. But I didn't know what else to do."

With clear reluctance, Ladybug let go of her. "We can't change the past. We'll forgive you if you can agree to trust us. I'm not just here for the people caught in the line of fire, I'm here to save the akumatized victims too." She glanced in my direction. "Right, Chat?"

I blinked.

"Chat Noir? Hey. Are you OK?"

"Just my. . . my face hurts."

"Sorry about that." Mom straightened her blouse, and ran a hand through mussed hair, undoubtedly powdered with stray flour. "I was aiming for the back your head, but you turned."

"Oh. _My_ bad."

With my catsight, I could see my lady rolling her eyes. But I knew she loved me, sarcasm, every pun, and all. How lucky was I to have her?

I managed a smile, with teeth still tight against the pain. That is, until my gaze snagged on Mom's bare feet. "Uh. Where is Paon?"

"Who?" Ladybug asked.

"He was serving as a distraction so I could get away from the shadows."

"Whoa, whoa, who are we talking about?"

"Paon Bleu possesses similar abilities to you and your sidekick," Mom explained.

Before I had a chance to take offense, Ladybug jumped in with a sound correction. "Chat Noir is my partner."

"Anyway, he has a miraculous as well."

Her mouth went slack. "Chat? Is. . . is that true?"

The grate of the ventilation overhead rattled then busted open with a crash, and landed on top of a plate of innocent pastries. Jelly went flying. Ladybug and Mom both jumped, as they were blind to the source of the din. My Mom then reached over to grab an obliging frying pan, and I winced, remembering how mean her swing could be.

With a fluid motion, Paon Bleu dropped from the ceiling, a shadow creature clamped down on his upper arm. It squealed as he threw it off himself, and its pack returned the cry, as they crawled their way through the ventilation above. They were coming.

"I can't keep them back any longer," he said.

"Ladybug," I threw a hand to motion toward the new arrival. "Meet Paon Bleu. Paon, Ladybug."

"Pleasure. . . though I'll have to be in suspense to see your face until the power comes back."

"Ladybug," he said, and subtly reached over to lower Mom's raised weapon of choice. "Now may be the time to use that charm of yours."

The monsters howled.

"Right." My Lady cleared her throat, and pulled her yoyo from where it nests at her hip. _"Lucky Charm!"_

Rose light flashed through the room, for a brief moment. The object dropped into her hands, which she felt the plane of the fragile surface, puzzled as to what it could be. I hopped to my feet, and drew close to her side.

"Be my eyes, kitty?"

"I think it's a mirror."

A thoughtful finger rested at her chin. "What good is a mirror when you can't see?"

Wisps of creatures began their descent, drawing closer like predator to prey. I swallowed hard. "Hurry, LB. They're surrounding us!"

She turned around, uselessly. "Where? I can't see them."

I pointed, a gesture that was also useless. "There's one there. Over there. And there, and. . ."

Our circle of four drew closer, frying pan and Paon's blades held at the ready.

"They're everywhere."

"Anytime, Ladybug," Mom said.

She cracked her yoyo open, like she had earlier to see into the elevator shaft. She shone it on the mirror, to examine it for herself. Light reflected off the surface, shooting into a corner. The shadows that were there hissed and scattered back into the dark.

"Hey!" My face lit up with a grin. "You figured it out. It's to reflect the light!"

"No."

"No?"

She looked right into the mirror, at her reflection, and I saw the determination I admired so well spark in her blue, blue eyes. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the object aside. It landed against the kitchen's tile, and shattered to pieces.

Paon whirled to face her. "What are you doing!?"

My hands found a grip on the ends of my hair and I tugged, mouth slack. "You. . . you just broke the lucky charm. How are you going to stop them now?"

Her sapphire gaze fell to me, face softly illuminated from the glow of her yoyo. "You trust me?"

I did. Name it, I trusted her with it all. But did that mean she never messed up? Never tripped, or failed? But I saw it in her eyes, that in this moment, she needed me to say yes. She needed to know I was on her side. That I _did_ trust her, and trust her with this.

"Always."

Her eyes closed. Concentration tugged at her features, lips set. And then, in the dark, surrounded by shadows, a light flickered. Wings of flight sprouted at her back, that shimmered, delicate and transparent. That same light that lived in her yoyo made them shine. They fluttered, and Ladybug grit her teeth from the effort, from the strength it took. As she did, the room grew brighter.

The shadows screamed all the more.

Ladybug let out a pant for air, as if her body could not bare this burden. "Chat? _I need you_."

On instinct, I reached out for her. I would be her anchor, her counter. While it was hard to think anything other than a string of _what_ and _WOW_ , I did vaguely recall one of many times Master Fu had instructed us to be mindful of balance. Our power was not exclusive, but two parts of a whole that must remain intact.

She did need me.

As my hand connected to her own, I felt the rush of this power that thrummed through her. Fear sent my heart racing, fear that this would rip her apart, except I be right there with her to balance this out. We clasped one another by the forearm, even as my cataclysm began to seep out through both of my hands, dripping like this energy could not be contained in me any longer, and was overflowing.

Ladybug tried to beat her wings. My eyes widened, stunned by how beautiful they were. Her heels rose off the floor, then the tips of her toes, as she struggled to gain height. Every moment they grew stronger, grew brighter.

 _I can't let go. I won't._

This energy, or whatever it was, boiled beneath my suit, and I tightened my grip on her, lest she slipped away. Dark particles dripped from my fingertips, eating through the tile in small bites. Though it didn't seem to have an effect on Ladybug, simply rolling off her suit.

As the room transformed from dark to illuminated in pure light, the shadows withered. It grew bright enough, that my Mom shielded her eyes with her frying pan, and then even I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep out the blinding white.

The hum of electricity sparked, and when I looked, the power to the building had been restored. The light overhead flickered then stabilized.

What remained of the shriveled creatures drew together, and formed together in a puddle of inky black. Slowly, with great effort, they took the form of a man. Sifting, wispy, and barely appearing human, but real enough.

Ladybug drifted back to the ground, and wobbled, like her knees were weak. "That's him. That's the akuma."

He perked up at this, and with a sudden surge of strength leapt to his feet. He ran for the door, in a final effort to escape. Paon shot a well aimed blade, that whistled across the room, finding its target in the doorframe, inches from the man's head. _Thunk._

" _You."_ Ladybug turned on him, a living spark. The light still emanating from her wings created the effect of a halo against her dark hair. She did not look fragile now, but strong, ethereal. Scary. "It was you!"

I clung to her arm, this time to hold her back, from kicking Paon's butt. "Hey, Bugaboo, listen it's gonna be OK?"

"He _murdered_ an innocent man," she spat.

The akuma took this as his chance to bolt.

"I saved your identity, likely your own life." Paon lifted his chin, gaze icy. "Without me, Hawkmoth would have the most powerful miraculous of all. I will not stand to see the city torn apart, simply for the mere sake of the conscience of a child."

"SHUT. UP."

I pointed at the door. "Uh, guys. Now's not the time. The akuma's getting away."

Tears rolled from behind her mask, down her cheeks. She went limp in my grasp, sinking to her knees with a sob. There was no use, trying to bring her back up, trying to console her, everything I said bounced off her.

"Bug, _please._ You're the only one who can purify the akuma."

Her wings sagged, the light dimming. "I can't. . ."

Bare feet padded across the tile, and my Mom gently lay down her frying pan, as she crouched in front of Ladybug. Her green eyes were warm, like honey. Like I remembered them when I was younger. A lump grew in my throat. She reached out, a finger to tip Ladybug's chin up to meet her gaze.

"Dearest. Don't worry." The woman's hand traced her jaw, lingering by her ear, where the stones remained. "After what I have seen today, I know that isn't true. You _can."_ Mom reached under the collar of her blouse, tugging out a delicate chain. Hanging from the end, sat a ring, blackened, with a dim violet glow. "I have the akuma's item with me. He. . . he gave it to me."

Ladybug allowed her to place it in her palm, and roll her fingers back to hold it securely.

"You. . . you had it this whole time?"

At my words, those soothing green eyes turned to me, and she smiled _right_ at me. "That's why he was following me. I'm so sorry that I tried to take your ring. Desperation will make you do many things to regret." She reached out to me, and I didn't know how to act, or what to say, so I blinked dumbly back. Her thumb swiped gently over my upper lip, and came away with blood. "You may have my handkerchief, if you will accept my apology as well, Chat Noir."

"O. . . Okay."

Though I would rather have kept it, pristine and white to have as a way to remember her by, I took her handkerchief and blotted at my nose, the source of the blood.

"He's gone," Ladybug said.

I tilted my head to look over my Mom's shoulder, and saw that it was true. Paon had vanished without a word, without a trace.

She cracked the ring against the floor, and caught the wicked akuma before it could fly back to its master. Cleansed by her lucky charm, she released it. The now snowy butterfly circled her, as if to inspect her own wings.

A tired sigh escaped her lips, still wilted on the floor. "Goodbye, little butterfly."

"I'm going to go look for him." Mom got to her feet, and rushed for the door. "And make sure he's alright."

I waited until the door swung shut behind her to speak. "You're _welcome."_

My Lady cupped my cheek, and give me a pitying look. "Hey. Are you gonna be OK?"

Leaning into her touch, I felt my worries drifting away already. "Yeah. I think I'm starting to get over her. Getting walloped sure helped, too."

She giggled, before biting at her lip to hold it back. "How's it feel?"

I pulled the handkerchief away, as the blood had subsided. "I've had worse." I scooted closer to her, my chin nearly resting at her shoulder. My breath fanned at her ear, at her miraculous, curtained by strands of raven hair. "Hey. How's it feel? To have _wings?"_

Instinctively she looked over her shoulder, and our noses grazed softly from the motion. Her eyes caught mine, drowning me in blue. "Pretty amazing," she whispered. "Pretty miraculous." They quivered, the translucent surface giving off a shimmer. "It feels. . . right this way."

"That was the coolest thing I've seen since I found out kwamis existed. You were great, Bug."

"I couldn't have done it without you, Cat." Her head tilted, to allow our lips to brush. "I've a question." A kiss, light like the flutter of something soft, something delicate found my mouth, before she drew apart again.

"I'm listening," I hummed.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

". . . Why?"

"Let's do a date."

"Go out?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Can. . . can we make that work?"

"Me." She pointed to herself, then tapped my bell with a soft jingle. "And Adrien." Her hand rested against my chest. "I mean. . . we _are_ dating. Right? I don't see why we can't make that work."

"I'm going to take a wild guess, and say Adrien would accept."

"I had a feeling."

* * *

"I know what you think I feel, but you're wrong."

The voice of my mom froze me in my tracks, and I ducked behind one of the obliging plants of the hotel's front lobby. Through palm fronds I spotted her and the man, now free of his akuma. The low golden lights allowed shadows to linger in the corners, so I took advantage of them. The lobby was empty, except a dozing clerk at the front desk.

"I'll just have to show you, the best way I know how." Mom held out the ring she had offered to Ladybug, this time appearing as a simple silver band. "Jacques, will you marry me?"

"Of course, Melodie. If you're sure."

She pressed the ring into his hand, which he then slid onto her ring finger. "Yes," she said, in hushed tones. "I'm sure."

The way they held each other, I knew they had something she and my father didn't. Not anymore.

The bravest part of me wanted to step out of hiding. For her to see me, one last time as I walked out that door. One could hope she never returned to Paris again. But forgetting was not the same as forgiving. I had to let go. It was the only way to move on, to stop carrying such a burden.

Tonight I did not feel brave.

* * *

My feet dragged on the front steps. The key turned with a solid _click_ and I slipped inside. Every hall seemed dark, only the light in Father's office was on. With his door slightly ajar, a beam was cast over the black and white tile, barely brushing the front staircase. He was working late, per usual.

 _And on a Saturday night._

Nothing could surprise me, after the night I'd had.

"Yes, I'm busy." Father's voice drifted enough for me to catch his end of the conversation, though he must have been on the phone because I heard no response. "I was in the middle of something important."

I drifted toward the staircase, but paused as I drew in line with the door's opening, enough to catch a glimpse of Father with his back to me.

"This is unacceptable," he growled. "The sample garment you've left doesn't match at all, and the opening release is in three days." He moved toward the wall, and set something in a safe, before closing it and replacing the painting that had kept it hidden from sight.

I didn't move. _He hides stuff behind the painting of Mom?_ Then Father turned and started for the door. I had only a second to react, to duck behind a marble pillar, wrapped in the darkness. Looks like I was doing a lot of hiding tonight. He strode past, still on his cell, too busy insulting the employee's intelligence to take notice of me.

Plagg drifted into the space beside me. "Well?"

I shot him a glare. "Well, what?"

"I assume we're going to do some snooping."

"No," I hissed. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you're hiding." He offered his signature smug smile. "But I won't tattle. And not just because you're the only human I can talk to. Except Ladybug, of course."

"Shut up, Plagg."

Yet in the silence that followed, I found myself slinking along the wall, under the gaze of several fine paintings that stood guard. My trust seemed to be waning swiftly. Mom lied to me, to take my ring from me, to take advantage of me. Paon of course never confessed to be a hero, but I had not known he was the one responsible for extinguishing a life and breaking my Lady's heart. And Father. . .

I had long known him to be a man of secrets.

"Oh yes, go on, go on!"

I stilled, just beyond the door. "I can't. Father wouldn't like me going through his stuff. Besides, I don't even know the code."

"Oh don't you dare poop two parties in one night."

The kwami let out a huff, and zipped across the room. He flew straight through the painting and out of sight. The softest _click_ broke the silence of the room.

A hesitant step led me forward, the next more sure. I gripped the golden frame of the painting, and refused to meet the sightless green gaze of the work of art. As it swung out, it revealed a small safe, about the size of a dumbwaiter.

"Plagg," I hissed. "You've heard the saying _curiosity killed the cat,_ right?"

He opened the safe from the inside, a grin plastered on his face. "Yeah, but there's that other part about coming back and being satisfied. I started that saying, kid. Don't try and use it against me."

Now that it was open, I couldn't help but look. Inside lay a picture frame, with glass shattered so you could barely see the picture. But I could still see the blonde hair and green eyes. Mom.

The second and only other item in the safe, was a book. Quite thick, and bordering the appearance of ancient. This is what he had removed earlier, and what I saw him return.

Airflow caught in my throat, as a lump formed. "Why. . . why is my Father keeping a book like this locked in his safe?"

Each turn of the pages within revealed illustrations upon illustrations of miraculous and their historic holder. A language I was unable to read lined the borders, and filed by in lists or accounts I couldn't understand. I flipped through, faster and faster, until I froze. I'd found the page of the butterfly.

"What is a monster like Hawkmoth doing in a book about super heroes?"

Footsteps, sharp toed shoes clapped against the corridor. In an instant, I had to choose whether to replace the book in its rightful spot, or to keep it. I closed the safe, and covered it again with the floor to ceiling portrait. With the book clutched at my back, I turned the same instant Father entered the room.

"Adrien?"

"Uh. Hey." I waved with my free hand.

"What are you doing in my office?" He looked pointedly around the room, as if to find any other equally unexpected visitors. Luckily, Plagg had found his hiding place in the inner pocket of my suit coat. "And at this hour?"

My hand went to my neck, before I forced it back to my side. "I just got back from Chloe's birthday party."

"Hm."

"You. . . you're up late."

"I have deadlines that must be met." He glanced out the window at the glittering city lights, and the inky sky. "You should get some rest, though."

My hands tightened, and I held my breath. "I saw Mom."

With his back to me, I was unable to see his reaction. If he _had_ any. He remained still, statue like, even. "Really? And what did she have to say?"

"She. . . well I didn't exactly talk with her." I needed to remember, the only thing Adrien had done tonight was eavesdrop as she proposed to another man. "I saw her. I watched her become engaged."

Unsure of what to expect, I grasped at the cuff of my suit. Waiting. Biting my tongue. Perhaps such a thing was better left unsaid. What would he say? Perhaps nothing more than a hearty "good riddance".

My grip on the book shifted, then tightened. When I felt it, the worn leather of the cover, and well used binding, it was a solid reminder that this man had secrets. I couldn't speak, couldn't move, terrified of what this book might mean. A dark thought resurfaced, that the one I call Father, the man that stands at the window looking out over the city I love, is the very one that terrors it.

 _Hawkmoth._

I'd thought it before, when my head was swimming. But I dismissed it as crazy. Wild. There was nothing that actually supported this, simply my imagination. Perhaps the hurt he caused me caused me to paint him a villain. But this book? Who would have a book like this? It was not the same as an avid fan, the people who bought Ladybug sweatshirts, or dressed as Chat Noir for Halloween, or subscribed to Alya's blog.

I stuffed my hand into my trouser pocket, conscious of my ring. I nearly lost it once, tonight. There would not be a second time.

"You know, I've been thinking," he said.

I held my breath.

"You have done very well this semester in your studies. Your grades have risen since you returned to study at home."

"Y-yeah. I guess so."

He turned to face me then, and I couldn't help but back a step, as if ready to run, if need be. "Do you still have any wish to return to Dupont?"

"Wait, you mean go back to school? With my friends?" Maybe that knock to the head was more serious than I thought. Because _this_ could never be real. "You would let me go back?"

"If that is what you want."

" _Yes."_ I nearly let go of the book, I was so in shock. "You really mean that?"

He did not look away, making direct eye contact with me. "Of course I mean it. I would never mislead you, Adrien. If you would like to return, then I shall discuss your enrollment with Nathalie. You shall begin in the fall."

Wild. My urge was to go to him. To throw my arms around him. But the weight at my back reminded me.

 _Secrets._

If I were to hug him, he would find the book.

Father approached me, concern etched on his face, usually so cold. "You're bleeding."

A touch to my face found blood dribbling from my nose again. I blinked at my hand in panic. "Oh, I'm. . . I'm sorry. Don't worry, I won't let it get on the suit."

"How did that happen?"

"Erm. Fencing. Nothing serious, just a bump." I fiddled in my pocket for the handkerchief, the stains from before dried. "It'll heal fast."

He was silent, calculating a moment too long for me to be at ease. For an agonizing second, I thought he didn't believe me. What would he think, if he knew I had lied?

 _Like father like son?_

"You should be more careful, Adrien. The opening show for the Ladybug Line is next week, and we'll need you looking in top shape."

No. I wasn't anything like him. I couldn't be.

* * *

I'd never realized how completely nerve wracking getting ready for a date could be. I refused to tell Father of course, or even Nathalie. I wouldn't have Harper pick my clothes or style my hair. There would be no cameras, no reporters, if I had any say. All of that to worry over. Another was Plagg.

The kwami knocked over my hair gel. He tried to eat my tie. All around, he was being a gigantic pest.

"What is with you?" I said, and snatched up the tie.

Plagg gave me a spiteful look. "I'm trying to help. Who wants to wear a tie that doesn't taste good? I'm testing it for you. But do you thank me? Never."

"People don't taste ties, Plagg." I tugged at the tie, to wrangle it into form. With a huff I whipped it off and began again. "Not unless they're a pig, like you."

"You poor kid. This is painful to watch, really." I saw his reflection float over to me, through the mirror that lined the wall above the sink. He gave my reflection a tired look. "Here. Let me."

I pursed my lips, and stared at him unblinking, until I finally hung my head in defeat. "Alright."

Plagg drifted to my collar, which he straightened. His little paws went to work fixing my tie. Once he was finished, I looked down, then back into the mirror.

"No way."

He shook his head. "Don't look so surprised. It's really not that hard."

"I know. . . I'm just nervous." I gave him a gentle pat, and felt sorry I'd spoken to him so harshly before. "Thanks, Plagg."

"Hey while we're on the subject, could I be your best man at the wedding? You'll probably need someone to tie your tie _then_ too."

I nearly choked. " _Plagg."_

"Hey. Teasing. Obviously. Relax a little. How many dates have you gone on with this chick already?"

"Plagg, shut up."

* * *

Under moonlight, above the glow of the city, she took me to the top of the tower. Nerves I'd battled before our date fled in terror when they saw that my lady had arrived. We grabbed food at a quiet cafe, and escaped with only a couple requests for autographs from other tables, and one picture on the sidewalk as we left. She was dazzling, as always, eyes bright and beaming behind the mask.

"Come and look," she said, and led me to the railing.

This was a special place for us. Not because of the romance people esteemed the Eiffel to hold, but simply because this is where as partners we had sat, many times, watching over the streets, and the people we could see from our perch. This is where we admitted, finally, to each other what we felt.

Only tonight was crystal clear, and not a cloud could be seen for miles. Simply glittering lights, the hum of traffic, and the purr of the river as it passed by.

I came to the edge and smiled at the skyline. Ladybug snaked her arms around me from behind, and her nose nuzzled into my jacket, just beneath my shoulder blades. I refrained from dropping any number short jokes.

Her grip tightened. "Wouldn't want a repeat of that time you fell."

"I know you wouldn't let me."

". . . That night was the first time I realized, you know. The first time I realized I couldn't hide this from you anymore."

"Maybe I should be glad I fell."

"It was my fault anyway. I'm such a clutz. Why'd you ever settle for me anyway?"

At this, I turned to face her. I blinked. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Mar– Bug. I _always_ knew you were a "normal" girl. Granted, Marinette caught me way off guard." My voice dropped at her name, to a whisper heard only between us. "I always knew you were a little clumsy. I always knew you were afraid. That's what made you so amazing. Because you were a hero anyway."

She blinked back. "Wow."

My eyes fluttered shut, as I bent down to place a kiss to her flushed cheek. "You're not a fraud." Our fingers found each other, to lace tight, suit against bare skin. I looked, and I felt, because this was a moment to savor. Still my heart plummeted at the resurface of a dark thought. She must have been looking too, because she saw it in my face.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I know it's not the best time, but there was something important I need to tell you."

"If it's worrying you, you should just tell me. Nothing could ruin the evening we've had. Promise."

"I. . ." I sighed. "I found something. A book. About the miraculous. There are pictures of other holders, and words written in some language, but I've not been able to figure out what language it is."

She snickered. "This is bad? It sounds wonderful! Maybe Master Fu will understand what it says."

"My Father had it."

"Oh."

"There's more."

My heart thumped, knowing that once I said this, I could not take it back. The words clung to the roof of my mouth. When I thought of saying them, saying them _out loud_ they sounded so terrible. How could they be true?

Afraid. I was afraid. But tonight, with her beside me, I felt brave.

"I think Father is Hawkmoth."

 _La Fin_


End file.
